


Confessions From The Edge.Pt.1

by Shire55



Category: P/C - Fandom, P/C h/c, Picard/Crusher, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 48,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shire55/pseuds/Shire55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After parting badly, Beverly accepts a secret mission. The time line is altered to save Picard and an alien race.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions From The Edge.Pt.1

Confessions From The Edge. Jean-Luc Picard was where he’d wanted to be for nearly thirty years. He should have been deliriously happy, but he wasn’t. The woman he loved…the only woman he ever truly loved, lay beneath him, her legs gripping his waist as her fingernails dug into the muscles of his shoulders. They were having sex, hot, sweaty, mindless sex, but it wasn’t what he wanted. These past months…had it been eight months already?...should have been the happiest of his life. Instead he’d been left feeling hollow, hollow and very, very sad. As she had instructed, his eyes were open, and to her, it appeared as if he was staring at her intently, but in reality he had retreated inside his mind. He went back, back to the beginning, to the moment where he had let his cowardice overrule his heart. Jean-Luc hummed as he laid the table for the evening meal. His friendship with Beverly Crusher, CMO of his mighty Starship, was the most cherished thing he possessed. It was a deep friendship, covering nearly thirty years and it seemed to him, it had grown stronger recently. They shared breakfast almost every morning, often ate lunch together and dinner was usually taken together too. Yes, he sighed, things couldn’t be better. Then he paused and shook his head, a wistful grin on his face. “Well, Jean-Luc, actually it could be better.” He loved Beverly, had done so since the first time he’d seen her. For most of the years of their friendship, he had loved her silently, not the least because she had chosen to marry his best friend and even after he died and he and Beverly grew apart, he continued to love her. Then, twenty years after the death of her husband, she came back to him, to serve as Chief Medical Officer on his new ship, the indefatigable, Enterprise. It was difficult as first, indeed he had tried to stop her appointment, but as time went on, he realised he could live with her in close proximity. He still loved her, but he was willing to suffer the pain of unrequited love just to have her in his life. For Beverly, their relationship became comfortable, like a favourite old pair of slippers. She came to rely on Jean-Luc for many things, not the least to be her emotional anchor. Once, after an intriguing experience with an alien culture who captured them and implanted neuro-cortical stimulators in their brains, they developed the ability to read each other’s mind. Around a fire, late one night on the alien planet, Beverly had learned of Jean-Luc’s love for her. She acted surprised, but Jean-Luc was privy to her thoughts too and he felt the echo of her love for him. Later, once again back on board the Enterprise and the stimulators removed, Jean-Luc took a terrible risk. He invited Beverly to dinner and afterwards and offered her his heart. She turned him down, saying that perhaps they should be afraid of what he proposed. He had been deeply wounded by her rejection, at night alone in his bed he almost writhed in pain, but over a period of time he came to understand her reasoning and determined to keep her in his life, if not as his lover, then as his best friend. Things went well for over two years. Then, one night after dinner, an uncharacteristically restless Beverly put her brandy balloon down on the low table and turned to the man who was seated at her side. “Jean-Luc…we need to talk.” Surprised, Jean-Luc turned to her, put his glass down and devoted all his attention to her. “Go on.” Crossing her legs, then snorting and uncrossing them, Beverly steepled her fingers under her chin and took a deep breath. “Over the past few months I have been feeling increasingly…” She stopped talking and Jean-Luc noticed a flush colour her milky white skin. “Yes?” She sighed and briefly closed her eyes. “I’m horny, Jean-Luc…horny all the time. I think it’s hormonal and I’ve scanned myself, but everything seems fine.” Somewhat taken aback, Jean-Luc’s mouth gaped before he snapped it shut. “Well…er…I…” She held up her hand. “You don’t have to say anything, I understand, but I have a proposal for you.” Now dumbfounded, all Jean-Luc could do was nod. “I need release, Jean-Luc, masturbation just isn’t enough. I want to have sex with you.” He sat still and silent while his mind went into overdrive. Before he could say anything, Beverly elaborated. “Now I know you probably have some ideas in your head, all sorts of romance and violins, but I don’t want that. I want to be able to come to you when I need to, have uncomplicated sex, then leave…no strings attached.” Still he sat silently, trying to comprehend what she was offering. His reticence was beginning to rankle Beverly. She took a short breath and abruptly stood. Looking down at the stunned man she said crisply, “Of course if you’re unwilling, I’m sure I can find someone else to…help me.” She turned and took only three steps towards the door when Jean-Luc sprang to his feet, saying roughly, “Beverly.” She stopped and turned to him, one eyebrow raised in query. “Don’t go.” She covered the distance between them and locked her eyes with his. “Well?” He nodded silently and in that moment he betrayed himself and the love he had always held for her. So it started. At first, Beverly would only appear, usually late at night, twice a month, then weekly, and then two or three times a week and each time it was the same. Little foreplay and absolutely no tenderness. Jean-Luc was heartsick. He didn’t want to have sex with Beverly; he wanted to make love to her. Every time she told him to fuck her, his artificial heart squeezed in sympathy with the tears in his eyes he never let her see…and she would never allow. As his penis slid in and out for her, he was overwhelmed with the need to tell her he loved her. He slowly closed his eyes and savoured the sensations coursing through his body. He also slowed, however slightly, his actions, wishing to prolong the pleasure, the connection…tenuous as it was, but of course she noticed. Although she was panting her voice was sharp. “Stop that, Jean-Luc!” His eyes snapped open and two tears slipped free. Beverly screwed up her face and lifted her hips higher. “I’m nearly there…stop that sentimental crap and just fuck me!” Unable to say no, Jean-Luc did as he was asked and, when she came; he registered his own bleak, cheerless orgasm. He wanted to enjoy the afterglow, to hold her in his arms and whisper endearments, but she wouldn’t permit it. She allowed a few minutes for them each to regain their breath before she urged him to roll off her. Then, as he lay quietly in the bed, she would quickly exit, sometimes going into the bathroom for a quick shower, sometimes not, but in any case, she was out his door in scant minutes, leaving him bereft and desolate. As the outer door whispered shut, Jean-Luc sat up and swivelled until he was seated on the bedside. He lowered his head into his hands and wept. He couldn’t go on like this, living a lie and denying his feelings. Something had to give…and soon. As soon as she entered his quarters next morning she could see there was something amiss. He was very quiet and the dark circles under his eyes told her he’d not slept the previous night. Not wishing to break the brittle silence, she sent him a smile as she sat at the dining table. He returned the smile, but she couldn’t miss the haunted melancholy in his eyes. Beverly considered Jean-Luc to be her best friend and, under normal circumstances would do anything within her power to help him, but deep inside she knew what was wrong and chose to ignore it. Breakfast was uncomfortable and Beverly was relieved when it was finally over. She stood, placed her serviette on the table and smiled, saying brightly, “Well, that was nice. Shall we do lunch?” Jean-Luc got to his feet slowly and shook his head. In a soft voice he said, “How can you do it, Beverly?” Immediately on her guard, the Doctor feigned innocence. “Do what, Jean-Luc?” He smiled at that. It was a sad smile that made him bow his head. “You know what I’m talking about, Beverly.” Anger bubbled up to the surface, making Beverly’s voice uncharacteristically sharp. “I don’t have time for games. Say what it is you have on your mind…I have to get to work.” That stung, but compared to his deeper hurt, it was nothing. Jean-Luc looked at the woman he loved and sighed. “Beverly…I can’t go on the way we are.” Clinging to her veneer of innocence, Beverly shook her head, seemingly confused. “What? What do you mean? Don’t you want me to come for breakfast any more?” How he kept his features calm and his voice under control, he didn’t know. “No, Beverly, that’s not what I mean.” Impatient…and frightened, Beverly said snidely, “What the hell are you on about?” What he said made her panic. “I love you, Beverly. And I want to show you that love when we…” He got no further. Beverly spun around and hastened from his quarters, leaving Jean-Luc alone…again. To make sure she didn’t have to see him over the next few days, Beverly sent her Vulcan Second in Command, Selar to attend the morning meetings with the senior staff. She avoided him at meal times and politely refused his requests to see her. Jean-Luc spent each long night tossing and turning in his bed, one part of him wishing she would come to him, another part mourning her loss. Two weeks passed and Jean-Luc became more and more distant from his crew. Then, late one night, not long after he had gone to bed in the forlorn hope he would find peaceful sleep, she came to him. He was awake when she entered his bedroom. In the starlight emanating from his viewport she slipped out of her nightie and slid into his bed. He closed his eyes, trying desperately not to succumb, but her scent reached him the same time as her hands and he fell into her spell. He had meant to say something…anything to make her see, but as soon as she caressed him, he was lost. Their desire escalated quickly and before he knew it, he was over her…entering her and he was powerless to stop it. She pulled him down to her and whispered hoarsely into his ear, “Oh God…fuck me, Jean-Luc…quickly, fuck me!” He rebelled. Finally he found the courage to deny her. In the darkness he shook his head and kissed her. She fought him, trying to wrench free, but he wouldn’t let her go. After several moments he broke the kiss to say roughly, “No, Beverly. Tonight it will be as I want.” He could see her eyes glittering as she glared at him. She shook her head, hissing, “Then it will be your last time, Captain.” Her use of his rank, rather then his name stung. He relented slightly, hating the sound of his voice as he begged, “Please, Beverly…please let me make love to you.” A strong hand gripped his face, focusing his attention. “I want you to fuck me, Jean-Luc. Either you do that, or I leave right now.” Tears sprung into his eyes. “But…” “Oh for God’s sake…just do it!” She lifted her hips and squeezed with her internal muscles. He gasped and thrust involuntarily. Beverly hissed. “Yes…” And he complied. Rising up on his arms he began to thrust hard and fast, just the way she wanted him to. It was over in mere minutes. He rolled off her and covered his eyes with his forearm, lest she witness his tears. But she did something completely unexpected. She turned to her side and placed her head on his shoulder. Shocked, he lay absolutely still. When she didn’t leave the bed, he carefully and slowly wrapped one arm around her. She snuggled into his embrace and went to sleep. Overcome with joy and relief, Jean-Luc slipped into slumber, a smile on his face. Of course she was gone when he awoke. Obviously to expect her to be there in the morning was too much. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling, knowing it was only a matter of time before his body betrayed him and refused to cooperate. What, he wondered, would she think of that? His limp declaration confronting her? He sighed and exited his bed, making quick work of showering, shaving and dressing. He was laying the table when she arrived. She seemed normal; in fact he was taken aback, yet again, by her beauty. She shot him a bright smile and took her customary seat at the table. “Good morning, Jean-Luc.” He smiled, trying to keep his despondency from his eyes. “Good morning, Beverly.” They began to eat and Jean-Luc marvelled at how blasé she was being. He tore apart a croissant and laid the pieces on his plate before looking up and smiled with what he hoped was genuine warmth. “I appreciated what you did last night.” She was putting some jam on her croissant and she shrugged. “Think nothing of it.” He frowned. “I can’t…it meant too much to me.” Beverly put her knife down with great deliberation and looked at him. “Jean-Luc, don’t make more out of it than it deserves. It was nothing.” Hurt, Jean-Luc swallowed the lump in his throat. “Nothing? You say that so very easily, Beverly. You must know what it meant to me.” Her eyes descended to the table and she sighed. “Stop it, Jean-Luc.” Anger began to colour his voice. “Why? Because you find it distasteful? Beverly, I love you! I don’t want this…cold, meaningless sex any more. If we are to continue, I want to make love, not rut like damned animals.” She was on her feet immediately, her cerulean eyes blazing. “How dare you! Who the hell do you think you are, Jean-Luc? I told you at the very beginning what I wanted…and you agreed! Now you want to change everything because of the way you feel? Well it’s not about you and your fucking feelings!” She stalked to the doors and, as they opened she turned and speared him with an icy gaze. “I told you at the beginning, if you weren’t willing, I would find someone else. Consider that now in effect!” The doors whispered shut and Jean-Luc sat stunned. He looked down at his half-eaten breakfast and his stomach heaved. He bolted to the toilet and only just made it as he brought up the remains of his breakfast. Over the following few weeks, Jean-Luc saw little if anything of Beverly. Scuttlebutt, not normally something he paid any attention to, informed him that indeed, Beverly had found a new companion. He tried to ignore the pain, but it ate away in small increments, eroding his barriers and undermining his strength. During the day he coped, although he was becoming increasingly distant from this crew, but at night he suffered. What little sleep he got was tormented by dreams, dreams of his beloved Beverly and what he really wanted to do with her. Masturbation offered a shallow, physical release, but his mind and his heart yearned for her. As weeks turned into months he slowly resigned himself to his loneliness. Beverly was discontented. Yes, she was getting what she wanted from the hunky Lieutenant Commander from Astrometrics, but there was something missing. After every assignation she would return to her quarters feeling…bereft, as if she was grieving. The sex was great, but left her feeling empty. In the back of her mind she knew she needed Jean-Luc, needed his love and affection, but she was too proud and too independent to admit it. Years of living as a single woman had inured her to the needs of her heart…or so she thought. Savagely shoving her misgivings aside, she concentrated on the here and now, completely dismissing what was so blatantly obvious to those who cared about her. So she searched for a physical reason for her heartache. At first she though she was suffering a mild depression, but further analysis proved that wrong. She briefly considered talking to Deanna Troi, the ship’s Counsellor, but the hybrid woman was well aware of what had transpired between Beverly and Jean-Luc and had already voiced her opinion, leaving her with only one other option. No, this was something Beverly had to work out for herself. She was in her office, tackling the mountains of paperwork that were a consequence of her job, when she was hailed from the Bridge. “Riker to Crusher.” Looking up., she smiled. “Crusher here, Will. Go ahead.” “Beverly, we are receiving a ‘code three’ for you.” She frowned. “A code three? Okay, send it down here, Will, thanks.” She turned her monitor and waited as the Federation Logo gave way to a blank, blue screen. She sighed and said softly, “Commander Crusher, Beverly, Doctor. CMO of the Enterprise, NCC 1701 E.” The computer acknowledged her identification, then intoned, “Level five clearance required for viewing code three communiqués.” “Epsilon, daystar, yellow delta, delta. Enable.” “Clearance verified.” The screen pixilated, then an unknown image appeared. It was that of a Bolian male. “Doctor Crusher, greetings.” Beverly allowed a small smile. “Hello, to whom am I speaking?” The blue being’s face remained impassive. “You need not know my name, Doctor, just that I am a Commander with the department of Temporal Investigations.” Alarm skittered through Beverly’s body, but outwardly she remained calm. “I see. How can I be of assistance?” “You are being seconded for a mission. You are required to leave the Enterprise as soon as possible. A ship is being sent to pick you up; it will rendezvous with the Enterprise in two hours.” Beverly gaped, then snapped her mouth closed. “May I know the nature of this mission?” “No, nor may you discuss it with anyone. Your Captain will be told you are being reassigned, nothing more.” Beverly was struggling to stay in control of her rising temper. “I see. Can you tell me how long I will be away?” The being shook his head. “No. You won’t need to pack anything, all you require will be supplied. Please be ready to transport at oh eleven thirty. And remember, Doctor, you are forbidden to discuss this mission with anyone. End transmission.” The screen went blank and Beverly snorted angrily. “How can I discuss something I know nothing about, you idiot?” She pushed away from her desk and rose. “Well, I’d better go shower and put on a clean uniform. Who knows where the hell I’m going.” Jean-Luc was in his Ready Room when Will contacted him from the Bridge, “Sorry to disturb you, Captain, but there is a ship closing at high warp.” Jean-Luc looked up from his work and frowned. “Can you identify it, Commander?” “No, Sir, nor can we identify its warp signature.” Jean-Luc sighed. “I see. Have you hailed them?” “No, Sir.” “Then do so now, Number One.” “Aye, Captain.” A few minutes passed before Will’s voice once again intruded on Jean-Luc’s dark thoughts. “Captain, there were no answers to our hails directly, but they are transmitting. They are sending a code four to you, personally.” Jean-Luc’s eyebrows shot up. “A code four? Captain’s eyes only.” “Yes, Sir.” “Very well, Commander, I will take it in here.” “Aye, Captain.” As Beverly did, Jean-Luc identified himself and gave the necessary code to clear the channel. The screen of his computer pixilated and Jean-Luc frowned at the image that appeared. “Admiral.” The elderly human nodded, his face solemn. “Captain. My name is irrelevant; I am merely contacting you to inform you that your CMO, Doctor Beverly Crusher is being reassigned immediately. She is required to transport over to the approaching ship.” Jean-Luc managed to hide his shock, but his dark hazel eyes glittered. “I see, Sir. May I ask the nature of her new assignment?” The Captain thought he saw regret in the older man’s eyes. “No, Captain, you may not.” Dismay, anger and anguish surged through Jean-Luc. He and Beverly may be estranged, but he had never stopped loving her. The thought of her being absent from the ship…gone from his life made his gut wrench. He gathered his shattered thoughts and kept his Captain’s persona intact. “Then may I know how long she will be gone?” The Admiral sighed. “ Captain Picard, I know you wish to keep your CMO…and I am aware of the close…association…you have with Doctor Crusher, but I am sorry, I cannot furnish any details of her secondment. She will be leaving the Enterprise in one point three hours so I suggest you get used to the idea.” He opened his mouth to end the transmission, but paused. “And Captain, please don’t talk to her about this matter, in fact I am making it an order. You are forbidden to discuss this with anyone.” On the verge of panic, Jean-Luc clung to his years of experience to keep his face stoic and his voice neutral. “Yes, Sir.” The connection was severed and Jean-Luc placed his elbows on the desk, cradled his head in his hands and struggled to keep from weeping. When the mysterious ship got within one thousand kilometres of the Enterprise, Will received a message. “We are standing by.” The big, bearded man scowled and called his Captain. “Sir? The approaching ship is here and has told us they are standing by. For what, I have no idea. Shall I hail them again?” Jean-Luc lifted his head and closed his eyes. “No, Commander, you are to have no contact with the other ship. Picard out.” He sighed, opened his eyes and stared at a picture on his desk, one of him and Beverly, taken at his last birthday. “Transporter room prepare to beam one to the other ship. Picard to Crusher.” Was that regret he heard in her voice? ”Yes, Captain.” “Transporter Room two is ready for you.” “Thank you, Sir.” He should have closed the channel then, but his heart was crying out for his love. “Beverly…I…” Her voice was crisp, but he was sure there was an undertone of sorrow when she interrupted him. “I have to go, Captain.” He closed his eyes, sending two tears down his cheeks. “Yes, of course. Picard out. Just as the channel closed he heard, “Goodbye, Jean-Luc.” His mouth opened to call her again, but he knew it would only prolong the inevitable. He was sitting stock still and staring sightlessly at the far wall when the call came from the Bridge. “Riker to Picard.” In a flat monotone, Jean-Luc muttered, “Picard here.” “Transport complete, Captain.” He swallowed and strove to keep his voice even. “Acknowledged. Resume present course.” “Aye, Captain.” The Bolian Captain was there to welcome Beverly to the new ship. He said nothing, merely gestured for Beverly to accompany him as he escorted her to her quarters. At the door he spoke for the first time. “You will be aboard seventeen days; we will be going back to Earth. I will not discuss your mission, nor are you to mention it to the crew. You are permitted to go to the lounge, the gym and the officer’s dining room if you so desire, no where else. Once on Earth, you will be briefed.” Beverly frowned as she assimilated the information. She knew she should stay quiet, but her pugnacious nature got the better of her. “How can we reach Earth in seventeen days, Captain? We’re at least two months away at maximum warp.” The Bolian’s eyes glittered, but he offered a wry smile. “This ship is like none you are familiar with. Suffice it to say, we will have no trouble reaching Earth in seventeen days. Now if there is nothing else?” Beverly shook her head, her mind roiling. “Then I will leave you now. You may contact me via the comm. system if you wish, but I must reiterate, I will not discuss your mission.” With a nod of acceptance, Beverly said quietly, “Thank you, Sir.” The doors whispered shut and Beverly turned slowly to stare forlornly at her quarters. Over the following three weeks, Jean-Luc operated on auto pilot. Their present mission, the mapping of a distant star cluster would normally have enthralled him, but the absence of Beverly, both from the ship and his life stole his enthusiasm. In fact it stole his very zest for life. On duty he was taciturn and closed. The usually gregarious Will Riker soon learned to leave his Captain alone. Deanna Troi, ship’s Counsellor, tried valiantly several times to get the Captain to talk about his feelings with her, but he refused and, as his work wasn’t suffering, she had no reason to order him to undergo counselling. At least, while he was on duty, he could keep his mind occupied with work, but in the privacy of his cabin, he suffered terribly. The nights were, by far, the worst time. In his bed alone he spent many sleepless hours yearning for his lost love and in the fractured snippets of sleep he caught, he was tormented by dreams of her. Life, for him, had lost its meaning. As the Bolian Captain had assured her, the odd ship made it back to Earth in seventeen days. Instead of landing or orbiting any of the numerous space docks, the Doctor was escorted to the transporter room and bidden farewell. She rematerialised in a room she didn’t recognise. Apart from the transporter apparatus, there was little that was familiar. The lighting was low, making her squint. As her eyes adjusted, she made out the form of a human male, one in an Admiral’s uniform. He smiled and bowed his head, saying softly, “Doctor Crusher…if you will come with me?” He gestured to the doors and Beverly had no option but to step off the pad and accompany the mysterious Admiral. As they walked, he asked conversationally, “Are you rested?” Confused and somewhat wary, Beverly nodded, saying cautiously, “Yes, I’ve had little to do these last seventeen days.” The old, grey haired man nodded. “That’s good.” Nothing more was said as they traversed the corridors, heading for who knew where. The only thing Beverly noticed was the lack of other people. They saw no one and, when they finally came to a closed set of doors, the Admiral said, with a trace of amusement, “I take it you have some questions.” Before Beverly could answer, the doors opened and she squinted again as bright light spilled out as they entered. The room was austere; the only furnishings were a long table with several chairs. There were no windows and no computer terminals. Standing around the table was an assortment of people, men and women of various ranks and species, two of which Beverly could not readily identify. With his hand firmly on Beverly’s back, the old Admiral urged her forward and indicated a chair for her. Once she was seated, everyone else took their seat. The old Admiral cleared his throat and faced the nervous red head. “I will not introduce you to those present, it is unnecessary for you to know their names.” Beverly nodded. “You are aware this is an operation conducted by the department of Temporal Investigations?” Swallowing to wet her suddenly dry mouth, Beverly nodded. “So I was told, Sir.” Casting a look around the table, the Admiral took a deep breath and settled his rheumy eyes on Beverly. “It has come to our attention, that in the not too distant future an attempt will be made by a renegade Starfleet officer to manufacture a biological weapon to annihilate the Keloran.” Beverly frowned. “The Keloran? I am not familiar with that species.” The old man smiled kindly. “I’m not surprised, the Federation will not have dealings with them for some years yet, but they will become very important to us in the future.” Nodding slowly, Beverly chewed her cheek. “Important enough to save.” Bowing his head, the Admiral nodded. “Yes.” Her interest now piqued, Beverly sat forward in her chair. “What is it you want me to do?” Once again casting a look at his colleagues, the Admiral sighed. “We wish to send you forward, into the future to dissuade the officer from her course of action.” Knowing more had been said than what she had heard; Beverly decided to make him lay his cards on the table. “And if I can’t…dissuade her?” The old man’s eyes darkened. “Then you are to do whatever it takes to stop her.” Beverly gritted her teeth and stared back into his eyes. “I need you to say it.” The old man didn’t flinch. “Very well, if you find you cannot prevent what she intends to do, you are to kill her and destroy her laboratory.” Beverly briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Once she had controlled her racing heart, she sighed and nodded. “I see. I take it this…person...is a scientist.” The Admiral nodded. “Yes, in fact she is a brilliant medical Doctor and a gifted researcher.” Alarm skittered through the red head. “She’s a medical Doctor?” The old man nodded. Beverly’s mind was racing. “But what on Earth is a Doctor doing creating a lethal biological weapon? It flies against everything the medical community stands for.” The old man’s face took on a curious sadness. “That is something we hope you can find out. You see, Doctor Crusher…the person you are going after is…you.” Weeks slowly morphed into months and Jean-Luc became more and more despondent. He tried every avenue he could to track Beverly down, but got absolutely nowhere. He called in every favour, spoke to everyone they both knew to no avail. It was as if she had simply disappeared. He even tried to find out something about the mysterious ship that had come for her, the ship that had no warp signature or call sign, but again, it was as if it never existed. In the end, he gave up, the pain of continuing too great to bear. Deanna finally persuaded him to talk to her, but nothing she could say could ease the pain in his heart. Eventually, lying awake one night in bed, Jean-Luc came to a decision. He exited his bed and strode to his desk in the living area. Activating his computer, he cleared his throat and spoke. “Computer, message to Admiral Alynna Nechayev, Starfleet Command.” He waited the few seconds while the computer made the correct connection. “Message reads, Admiral Nechayev, due to personal matters, I am resigning my commission and retiring from Starfleet, effective immediately. Signed, Jean-Luc Picard, Captain, USS Enterprise.” He sat back and sighed. “Computer, send.” He ignored the chimes of compliance and ambled back to his bed. As he waited to see if he could sleep, he wondered, “Will I ever see you again, Beverly?” He was surprised to find he had managed to get some sleep. He woke before the alarm and laid staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes. When the alarm sounded he muttered, “Off.” And exited the bed to shower, shave and dress. He debated whether or not to put on his uniform, but years of ingrained habit won and he presented himself to the dining table looking the consummate officer he’d always been. He couldn’t bring himself to eat anything, so he was quietly sipping a hot black coffee when there was soft chime of an incoming message from his computer. Taking his coffee with him, he ambled over to his desk and tabbed the monitor on. The message was succinct. To: Captain Jean-Luc Picard, USS Enterprise, 1701E From: Admiral Alynna Nechayev, Starfleet Command. Message reads… Captain Picard, re your resignation. Be advised it has not been accepted. Please contact me at your earliest convenience. Signed, Alynna Nechayev, Admiral, Starfleet Command. End Message. Jean-Luc sat back and sighed. He had expected this and was prepared for a protracted battle to win his freedom. He looked up at the ceiling, briefly closed his eyes and called, “Bridge, this is Picard.” “Bridge, aye, Captain. Go ahead.” “I want an open channel to Admiral Alynna Nechayev, Starfleet Command.” “Acknowledged, Sir.” The wait was, mercifully short. He knew that she must have been off world to answer so quickly, as the Enterprise was deep in space, a long way from home. The screen flickered to reveal the stern face of the Admiral. She wasted no time on pleasantries. “What’s this insanity about you retiring?” Keeping his face neutral, Jean-Luc made his well rehearsed speech. “Admiral, with all due respect, I have personal reasons I don’t wish to discuss that have brought me to this decision, however, I would like to point out that I have served faithfully for most of my life and I feel I have a right to know when to walk away.” Nechayev sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Granted, Captain and I doubt there would be anyone in Starfleet who could possibly deny you have given superlative service…but retire? Captain…”, she sighed, “Jean-Luc…there is so much more you can offer. Am I correct in surmising it is just your Captaincy you wish to resign?” Warily, Jean-Luc nodded. “Yes. It is my intention to return to a quieter life on Earth.” Her small, hard eyes glittered. “You want a quieter life?” She snorted softly, then held up a placating hand. “Forgive me, Captain, but I find that very hard to believe. As you have so eloquently put it, you have served for most of your life. You have been at the forefront of exploration for nearly fifty years! And you’ve been at the pointy end of too many sticky situations to mention. Now you say you want a quieter life? After all your years in space…what the hell do you think you’re going to do?” That hit home. It was the one thing Jean-Luc had not fully addressed. He knew he wanted off the Enterprise, he knew he had had enough of being a Captain, but as to what he was actually going to do with himself… He sighed. “Admiral…” She held up her hand again. “Let me run something by you. There is trouble brewing between the new Cardassian Government and the task force we sent to assist them in their rebuilding efforts. What we need is a new Ambassador, someone with the experience of years in space…someone who knows the Cardassians and how they think…and someone who will not be intimidated by them.” Jean-Luc’s eyes darkened. “And you think I can fill that role?” Alynna smiled, but it was a predatory expression. “Yes.” Knowing there was no such thing as a free ride; Jean-Luc affected a nonchalant pose and asked softly, “What’s in it for me?” Triumph gleamed in Nechayev’s eyes as she sat back and made a grand sweep with her arm. “Any mission you want. Since the Dominion war, there have been a multitude of Federation worlds who have been reconsidering their membership. We need a hard-nosed, no-nonsense Ambassador who will go to these…lily-livered world leaders to talk sense to them, make them see it is in their best interests to stay in the Federation. I believe you are that man.” Jean-Luc’s heart accelerated. What she was suggesting was very tempting. He was aware of the recent instability within the Federation and it was a job he felt he could do, but what was more important…it would keep him too busy to feel his pain. If he could immerse himself so deeply that he could finally banish Beverly from his mind…if not his heart, then it would be worth staying in Starfleet, if only to ease his pain. He locked eyes on the Admiral and slowly nodded. “You make an attractive proposal, Admiral.” Trying to keep her excitement at bay and only succeeding moderately, Nechayev smiled with what she hoped was warmth and sat back in her chair. “So…are you accepting?” He took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds and slowly let it out. “Yes, Admiral, I accept.” She bent forward and pressed something on her computer. “You are now Ambassador Picard. I am redirecting the Enterprise to Starbase thirty four where you will disembark and await transport to Earth.” Before she could say anything further, Jean-Luc quietly interrupted. “If I may, Admiral…give the Captaincy of the Enterprise to Commander Riker. He has served his apprenticeship and has earned the right to sit in the big chair.” Nechayev looked up and gave Jean-Luc a long, speculative look. She knew she owed this man at least this much, so after a few seconds she gave a brief nod. “Done. Do you want to tell him?” Jean-Luc smiled. “Yes. When do you want the transfer of Command to take place?” All business now, Nechayev said crisply. “ASAP. We have a new mission for the Enterprise; tell Riker I will be contacting him as soon as he assumes command.” Jean-Luc bowed his head. “Of course, Admiral.” “I will be sending you a mission brief about the Cardassian situation. Read it well, Ambassador, I want you to hit the ground running.” Offering a curt nod, Jean-Luc sat up straight and tugged his tunic down. Nechayev looked up and managed a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Contact me once you’re on your way to Earth.” Jean-Luc nodded, but before he could say anything, Nechayev smiled again. “Oh and congratulations…Ambassador, Nechayev out.” Picard sat for a few moments, staring at the Federation logo on the screen. He then looked down at his uniform and sighed before slowly standing and making his way to his bedroom to change. Will came onto the Bridge half an hour after Jean-Luc. Seeing his Captain was in his office, the First Officer took the Command chair and settled down to his shift. When Jean-Luc called Will to the Ready Room, the big man thought it was to be briefed on the current mission. However, once inside his CO’s inner sanctum, he was surprised to see his Captain out of uniform. Will grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “Having a day off, Sir?” Jean-Luc smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, something Will had come to expect. “Not exactly, Number One.” The older man paused, sat back and quietly regarded Will with searching eyes. Feeling a little uncomfortable, Will frowned, saying softly, “Sir? Is there anything wrong?” Jean-Luc smiled again, and this time it did reach his eyes. “No, Will, I was just thinking of these past years…how you have served as my trusted right hand.” Now somewhat alarmed, Will pointed to the chair in front of the desk. Jean-Luc nodded silent permission and the big man sat. “Captain…what is it? Can I help you with something?” The older man’s smile became sad and he sighed. “No, it is I who can do something for you.” Now confused, Will shook his head, but before he could say anything, Jean-Luc sat forward and placed a small box on the desktop. He pointed to it and said softly, “That is for you.” Clearly nonplussed, Will took the box and opened it. Inside were four gold rank pins. Will looked up at his Captain, obviously confused. “Sir?” Jean-Luc sat back and folded his hands on his lap. “I have resigned my Captaincy, Will. As soon as we make the change of Command, the Enterprise will be yours.” Will gaped and twice tried to say something. Jean-Luc smiled and held up his hand. “Let me explain. This morning I spoke at length with Admiral Nechayev. I had intended to retire from Starfleet all together, but she persuaded me to take an Ambassadorship. I accepted and asked that you be given the captaincy of the Enterprise. She agreed.” Will finally found his voice. “But, Captain…leave the Enterprise?” Jean-Luc sighed, his eyes falling to his hands. When he spoke it was with deep sadness. “Will, since Beverly left I have been…” He sighed deeply. “Let’s just say that my life hasn’t been the same since she left and I have found I no longer have the appetite for my job anymore.” Will knew Jean-Luc was speaking the truth and he did understand, but part of him rebelled at the thought that his Captain would give up his life’s work so easily. He took a deep breath and looked his Captain in the eye. “Sir, there is no need for you to do this! I’m sure that Beverly will come back once she’s completed her mission. You just need to hang on.” With a shake of his head, Jean-Luc sighed. “No, Will, she’s gone. I’ve tried everything; talked to everyone I know…I can’t find her. I don’t even know if she’s alive or dead.” He sighed again and tried to make the younger man understand. “Will…my life has lost its meaning. I can’t do…” He waved a despondent hand. “This any more.” Defeated in the face of the man’s pain, Will slowly nodded. “I understand, Sir…and I’m sorry, sorry it had to be this way.” Jean-Luc smiled sadly and sighed. “Do you want a formal hand over of Command, or a private ceremony?” Will stood and came to attention. “Private, Sir, please.” Jean-Luc stood and nodded solemnly. “As you wish.” The ceremony was a simple one and, within mere minutes the computer acknowledged the change of command. Will slowly removed his Commander’s rank pins and, with great deliberation, replaced them with Jean-Luc’s. He knew without the older man saying so, that they were his own rank pins. As he finished his task, Jean-Luc extended his hand and shook Will’s. “You will make a fine Captain, Will. Make me proud.” With his eyes glittering with tears, Will nodded and said quietly, “Yes, Sir.” Will turned to leave, but hesitated and turned back to face his former Captain. “When do you leave, Sir?” “Three days. The Enterprise has been redirected to Starbase, thirty-four. I will disembark there and catch a transport to Earth.” Will nodded thoughtfully. “Ambassador, eh? The Cardassians?” Jean-Luc smiled wryly. “Yes…at least at first. Then I’m going to be thrown to the wolves.” Will frowned. “Sir?” With a sardonic chuckle, Jean-Luc folded his arms across his chest. “I am to get the frightened Federation worlds back into the fold.” Will rolled his eyes. “Oh god…I wish you luck!” Jean-Luc’s chuckle became a snort. “I think I’m going to need it.” Will nodded again, then smiled with mischief. “So…Sir…your resignation party…” Jean-Luc held up his hand, his eyes darkening. “No, Will.” “But…” “No, Will, I don’t want any sort of celebration. Let me leave quietly, no fanfare…please.” Wishing to obey his former CO, but unwilling to let him leave without a sending off party, Will shook his head. “Come on, Sir…” Jean-Luc shook his head. “Will, I will invite the senior staff to my quarters for a quiet drink…nothing more, please.” He had no option but to acquiesce. He sighed and bowed his head. “Very well, Sir.” Just as Will was about to leave, Jean-Luc placed a paternal hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I want you to know, Will, it has been an honour to serve with you.” With a lump in his throat, Will straightened and said softly, “You too, Sir, I’ve learned from the very best.” Will left and Jean-Luc turned to look out at the stars. He sighed and gently placed his fingers against the cold, clear aluminium. “Where are you my love?” He stayed there for over half an hour before leaving to go to his quarters to pack. The weeks that followed his resignation flew by. As Nechayev had told him, he did hit the ground running. He was thoroughly briefed at Command, then transported by Starship to the Cardassian home world where, for over five weeks, he butted heads with the most recalcitrant people he’d ever met. Jean-Luc was a patient man, patient and fair, but he was sorely tested on Cardassia. It wasn’t until the very end of his diplomatic rope that his counterparts finally conceded to his wisdom. The treaty was ratified and Jean-Luc could at last take some time to begin to study his next assignment. The work had been gruelling and time consuming, but no matter how immersed he was, some part of him, hidden deep within his heart, yearned for Beverly. During the negotiations he’d slept sparingly and ate less, too busy to think of anything but the mission, yet somehow a part of him grieved. At times, mostly in his bed, the melancholy swept over him, leaving him bereft and lonely. He savagely pushed it aside, but it never truly left him. Now that the Cardassian crisis was over, Jean-Luc was on his way back to Earth to begin the task of tackling the skittish citizens of the Federation. His transport for the journey was the Starship, Excelsior. Her Captain, Michael Hussey, was an old friend of Jean-Luc’s and, one night over dinner, Captain Hussey broached a sensitive subject. “I hear Beverly Crusher has disappeared off the radar.” Jean-Luc paused in his eating, but only for a second. When he looked up at his friend, his face was unreadable. “So I hear too.” Hussey knew Jean-Luc well enough to know he was hurting. “That must be difficult for you.” “Hmm.” Frowning, Hussey said quietly, “If anyone had known where she was, I would’ve thought it’d be you.” Snorting, Jean-Luc put down his cutlery and wiped his mouth with the serviette. “I don’t want to talk about it, Michael.” The younger man shrugged. “I hear you, Jean-Luc, but that doesn’t mean I agree. How long have you been missing her?” His voice roughened with emotion, Jean-Luc muttered, “Since she left the Enterprise.” Hussey let out a low whistle. “But that’s months…haven’t you heard from her at all?” Shaking his head, Jean-Luc sighed. “No, nothing. It’s as if she’s completely disappeared.” Hussey grunted. “I take it you’ve called in the usual suspects?” Jean-Luc sat back and sipped his tea. “Oh yes, I even went as far as trying to get information out of Section 31.” That brought a snort of disgust. “Those bastards would sell their own mothers if they thought they could get some sort of advantage. Did they know anything?” Jean-Luc shook his head. “No.” Hussey leaned forward, and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “I heard that she left in a ship that had no warp signature or call sign.” “That is so.”, Jean-Luc agreed. His voice even lower, Hussey almost whispered, “Well I heard the ship belonged to Section 31.” Growing tired of the conversation, Jean-Luc rubbed his face and sighed. “Well either way, I can’t find out anything more than she left my ship and disappeared.” Offering a sympathetic smile, Hussey sat back and sighed. “How long has it been?” Jean-Luc voice was desolate as he replied, “Seven months.” The younger Captain refilled Jean-Luc’s cup as he remarked casually, “Well she’s bound to surface sooner or later, Jean-Luc. You just have to be patient.” Jean-Luc summoned a smile, but inside he wept. He was met in the transporter room at Command by none other than Admiral Nechayev herself. She escorted him to her office and provided a cup of Earl Grey before she dropped her bombshell. “You are to get yourself to the Hepbraum system to mediate a trade dispute.” Years of diplomatic skill held him in good stead. He didn’t question his superior, at least not directly. “The Federation worlds can wait?” Nechayev snorted. “A lot has been happening while you were away, Ambassador. We have managed to recruit a few handy men and woman to handle the busy work. A man of your talents needs to be put where he can do the most good.” Jean-Luc’s shrewd mind honed in on what she was saying. “And that is mediating a trade dispute?” Nechayev had the good grace to look embarrassed. “All right, it’s a little more than that.” Jean-Luc offered a wry smile. “I thought as much.” Gesturing for them to both sit, Nechayev outlined the mission. “We have, for many years, been fortunate enough to get large quantities of dilithium out of the Hepbraum system. In return the Hepbraums have enjoyed Federation protection and technology. That has recently changed. A new species, the Keloran, have offered the Hepbraums a better deal, including medical technology banned in the Federation. Now as you know, our rebuilding efforts since the Dominion war have left us severely depleted in dilithium. Put succinctly, we can’t afford to lose the Hepbraums. We need them and we need them to realise they need us. That, Ambassador, will be your job.” Running a hand over his bald head, Jean-Luc let out a long breath. “That, Admiral, sounds like a can of worms. What, may I ask, can I offer them to sweeten the deal?” Nechayev grimaced and the Ambassador knew whatever it was, it was distasteful. “Weapons technology, Ambassador.” The gravity of the situation was not lost on Jean-Luc. He bowed his head and briefly closed his eyes. “They are that important?” Nechayev sighed. “They are more than just important, Ambassador, they are vital.” “I see. Very well, when do I leave?” Nechayev looked up and Jean-Luc saw both respect and sorrow in her eyes. “Immediately. I know this will be difficult…Jean-Luc…and I do apologise, but I believe you are the man for this job. Get it done.” Offering a short bow, Jean-Luc’s face became passive. “I will do my utmost, Admiral.” He left the room, only to be stopped by the Admiral’s adjutant. “Sir? I have your itinerary. You are to travel to the Hepbraum system aboard the Faragut. Unfortunately she cannot stay while you complete your mission, the Hepbraums have permitted you leave to stay on their home world for the duration of the talks.” Jean-Luc sighed, resisting the urge to rub his tired eyes. “I see. And what do I do at the completion of my mission?” The young Adjutant grinned. “Just give us a call, Ambassador, we’ll send someone.” Offering a wan smile, Jean-Luc muttered, “How comforting.” He accepted a briefcase full of PADDs from the officer and left the building, heading for the transporter rooms. It took almost three weeks to get to the Hepbraum system. Jean-Luc spent the time going over and over all he could find on the Hepbraums. Of the Keloran he knew nothing. He sighed, not liking entering into negotiations without all the information he needed, but he cast aside his misgivings and concentrated on what he did know. The Hepbraums were a humanoid species, unremarkable but for one important ability. They had a phenomenal sense of smell, reputed to be so accurate, they could literally smell emotions. Jean-Luc knew he was going to have to be scrupulously honest. It was in his nature to be so anyway, but he knew there were times, especially during tense negotiations, when it was sometimes necessary to…gild the lily. The Hepbraums were well aware of the value of their dilithium and he wondered just what it was the Kelorans had offered. Medical technology was too vague a term, Jean-Luc liked to deal with specifics. He needed to know the Keloran’s strengths…and their weaknesses. And so he worked tirelessly, preparing himself for the coming battle. He grew used to getting by on only a few hours sleep a night and those who knew him would have remarked at how much weight he’d lost. Yet he drove himself remorselessly, anything to avoid thinking about Beverly. Nechayev had not understated the difficulty of the mission. Three days into the negotiations, Jean-Luc found the Hepbraum negotiator to be honest and very forthcoming, in fact, seemingly willing to continue their association with the Federation, making the Ambassador wonder what had precipitated the rift in the first place. That was until he met, at a dinner held by the Hepbraums, the Keloran negotiator. To say the being was intimidating was a gross understatement. Tall by human standards, what made Jean-Luc’s blood chill was the total absence of any colour to the being’s skin. Beneath a black robe that covered most of her body, what skin that could be seen was inky black, almost translucent and offering the appearance of making her limbs shimmer in and out of shape. Her eyes glowed softly yellow and she was quite unlike anything Jean-Luc had ever seen before. When the Hepbraum chief negotiator introduced her, it was all Jean-Luc could do to refrain from staring into her cold, glowing eyes. He noticed she offered her hand and he took it, but instinct told him to shun her, to run immediately, but years of diplomatic experience had him plaster a warm smile on his face as he took her hand, its coldness making his skin crawl. Her voice was a raspy whisper. “I have heard of you, Ambassador, you are a worthy opponent.” An odour, reminiscent of burnt cloves wafted to him and Jean-Luc frowned slightly. “Then you have me at a disadvantage, madam.” The Hepbraum negotiator bobbed his head and made a coughing sound. “Forgive me, Ambassador. This is Loran, prime negotiator for the Keloran.” Her name meant nothing to Jean-Luc, but he noticed how very nervous his Hepbraum counterpart was in her company, indeed, as soon as he could, the negotiator excused himself, leaving the human and the Keloran alone. There was an awkward silence, broken when Loran said abruptly and with sinister intent, “I do not intend to lose these people to you, Ambassador.” Jean-Luc kept his face inscrutable as he replied, “I rather think that is up the Hepbraum.” The being shrugged, making the fabric of her robe rustle unpleasantly. “We do not purport the lofty ideals of the Federation, Picard, we deal in realities. The Hepbraum have something we want and if they won’t give it to us, we will take it.” Surprised by the vehemence of her statement, Jean-Luc softened his voice, but it lost none of its steel. “If the Hepbraum choose the Federation, they will enjoy our protection. Are you willing to take on the entire Federation to get what you want?” Her inky black features showed no surprise, but he heard it in her weird voice. “You would go to war over a trade agreement?” Jean-Luc smiled coldly. “The Federation honours all its agreements. Those with whom we have treaties or trade agreements enjoy our protection.” The being shimmered slightly and seemed to grow substantially taller. “Are you threatening me, Picard?” His smile remained and he stayed glacially calm, be he couldn’t stop his heart accelerating. “Not at all, I am simply stating the facts as they are.” The odour grew stronger and the being opened her mouth. There was nothing to see, no teeth or tongue, just a black opening in the black tabloid of her face. “Do not oppose me, Picard; you will not live to regret it.” Keeping his eyes glued to hers, Jean-Luc’s smile vanished as he allowed warning to colour his voice. “Are you threatening me, Loran?” Her mouth twisted into what Jean-Luc surmised was a smile. “Not at all, I am simply stating the facts as they are.” With his own words thrown back at him, Jean-Luc frowned. He looked up at the being and said with absolute determination, “I will not be intimidated.” She shrugged again and Jean-Luc couldn’t help but think the sound must be like that of a moving shroud. “I am not trying to intimidate you…Ambassador, I merely feel it necessary to warn you of the consequences of your actions.” “I will do my duty to the best of my ability, regardless of any…warnings.” The cold, glowing eyes seemed to waver. Loran’s body shivered and she stepped away, leaving Jean-Luc feeling vaguely unsettled. He left the dinner as soon as protocol allowed. The talks wore on over a period of ten days. During this time, Jean-Luc did not see Loran, but he felt her presence. His Hepbraum counterpart, a gentle being called Frey would come to the negotiation table visibly rattled, taking over an hour to calm himself. Jean-Luc came to understand it was after a meeting with the Keloran. It took every diplomatic skill he possessed, but at the end of the twelfth day, Jean-Luc secured a trade agreement with the Hepbraum. Having said his goodbyes, Jean-Luc was in his assigned quarters, packing, when his door chime sounded. Rather than bid the caller entry, he went to the door and pressed the release. The appearance of his visitor made him take an involuntary step back. Taller and more menacing than at any other time he’d seen her, Loran towered in the doorway, her eyes glowing angrily. “You have defied me, Picard.” Straightening his spine and schooling his features, Jean-Luc said coldly, “I suggest you leave before I call the authorities.” An odd sound emerged from the black pit of her mouth. “I will not forget the damage you have wrought, Picard…damage to me personally and to my people. You will pay.” Looking up into those cold eyes, Jean-Luc suppressed a shudder. “But not today, I think.” The being seemed to smile. “No, not today, but I’m sure our paths will cross again…Ambassador.” Loran stepped back and the door closed. Jean-Luc stared at the beige panelling until a call came through. “Ambassador Picard?” He snapped out of his brown study and cleared his throat. “Picard here, go ahead.” “Sir we have been in contact with the Faragut. They will be here in two days.” “Understood, thank you, Picard out.” Now that the mission was all but over, the despondency crept back. Angry that he couldn’t rid himself of these debilitating emotions, Jean-Luc brusquely called the communications centre. “This is Ambassador Picard. I wish to talk to Admiral Alynna Nechayev at Starfleet Command.” The reply was a little hesitant. “Err…of course, Ambassador, but it will take some hours.” “Acknowledged. Please route the call to my quarters when you are able.” “As you wish, Ambassador.” He managed to doze while he waited. It was the gentle chime of his computer that woke him. He rose and went to his desk, saying huskily, “Computer, on.” He had to smile...he’d never seen Nechayev looking like she had just got out of bed. “Admiral.” The vexed woman tried to smile, failed and instead, scowled. “Do you know what time it is, Picard?” The man smiled, but covered it with his hand. “Ah...no. I’m sorry if I woke you, Admiral.” Nechayev waved a hand dismissively. “Well, now that I’m up, what is it?” All business, Jean-Luc’s eyes darkened. “Would you please send me the briefs of all the impending missions on the list?” Nechayev’s gaze sharpened. “Why?” Jean-Luc shrugged with what he hoped looked like nonchalance. “I thought perhaps I might choose my next assignment.” The Admiral sat back, her gaze speculative. She sighed. “Well, I suppose you have earned that right. Very well, I will transmit it immediately. Is that all?” Jean-Luc summoned a smile. “Yes, Admiral, goodnight, Picard out.” The screen went blank and Jean-Luc stared at it. He muttered quietly, “So…it seems I have my destiny in my own hands now.” He should have recognised his bloody mindedness, but all he felt was sadness and despondency. He rose from his desk and made his way to the window, his gaze going upwards. “Wherever you are, Beverly, I love you.” Over the next seven months, Jean-Luc gained a reputation as the man who would go into the most dangerous situations to settle disagreements. Nechayev came to rely on him to do the jobs no one else would take. In all those lonely months, Jean-Luc kept looking for Beverly, his love for her never diminishing. His work was a means to an end, a way to keep his mind occupied while his heart ached. Will Riker learned of his former Captain’s devil-may-care attitude and contacted him one bleak afternoon on a distant planet. “Ambassador? You have an incoming transmission from a Starship called, Enterprise.” His eyebrows went up, curiosity warring with concern. “Very well, put it through to this terminal, please.” The screen suddenly switched from standby mode, flickered once or twice before clearing to reveal Will’s familiar image. Jean-Luc couldn’t help but smile warmly. “Will! How the hell are you?” The big bearded man grinned and it was such a familiar gesture, Jean-Luc felt a deep pang of regret. “I’m well, Sir. More to the point, how are you?” Waving his hand dismissively, Jean-Luc gave a shake of his head. “Oh I’m fine…Captain.” There was a friendly glint in Jean-Luc’s eye that made Will sigh. “That’s not what I hear, Sir.” Always an intensely private man, Jean-Luc’s smile faded. “Oh? And what is it you’ve heard?” Will sat forward in his Ready Room, making eye contact with his friend. “I’ve heard you’ve become a bit of a maverick, Sir…that you’ll go where no one else will, that you are taking your life in your hands…way too much.” Jean-Luc shrugged, suddenly wishing to terminate the connection. “Will, you know how delicate these negotiations can be. I’m just lucky I’ve been able to settle a few sticky situations, that’s all.” Will’s blue eyes darkened. “I’ve heard you’ve been deliberately seeking dangerous assignments.” Growing somewhat irritated that he should be cross examined by his former First Officer, Jean-Luc sighed and struggled to keep his tone even. “All diplomatic assignments carry an element of danger, Captain.” Hearing the suppressed anger, Will shook his head, unwilling to back down. “I understand that, Sir, but there is no need for you to consistently choose the most dangerous assignments. A man of your experience and service has the right to take some easier work. You’ve earned it, Sir.” Jean-Luc understood Will’s concern, but he was unable to explain his actions. Instead he tried to make light of it. “Oh I know that, Will, but the other Ambassadors aren’t quite as experienced as me. I’m just holding the fort while they catch up.” A new voice came over the channel and Jean-Luc had to concentrate on not grimacing. “I think there’s another reason, Sir.” Deanna Troi came into view. Will moved over as she perched on the arm of his chair. “I think you’re missing Beverly so much, you’ve lost your sense of self preservation.” Jean-Luc immediately dismissed the notion. He smiled condescendingly and waved a hand. “Oh I’m sure that’s not right, Counsellor.” “Isn’t it, Ambassador?” She leaned forward, her obsidian eyes glittering. “I think you have a death wish.” Angry, Jean-Luc spat, “That’s absolutely absurd! Just because I choose to do the difficult assignments doesn’t mean I have a death wish, Counsellor. You would be better served tending to the needs of your shipmates.” Deanna’s face didn’t alter. “You mean, mind your own business, Counsellor.” Jean-Luc said nothing, just stared balefully at the screen. Deanna sighed and softened her gaze. “Ambassador you are grieving. Why don’t you take some time off…go somewhere and recover.” By now absolutely furious and feeling patronised, Jean-Luc’s face became unreadable. “I appreciate your concern, Counsellor, but I have a lot of work to do…so if you don’t mind…?” Deanna’s face saddened and she sighed. “Sir…” Jean-Luc dragged up a cold smile and lifted a hand in farewell. “I am very busy, I have to go. Picard out.” The screen went blank and Jean-Luc sat staring at it for some minutes before he went back to his work. Jean-Luc’s work had twice involved him in negotiations that included the Keloran. Loran was the negotiator in both cases and, as before, they had an acrimonious relationship. Parting after the last encounter, the angry being confronted Jean-Luc and issued an overt threat. “This is the last time you demean me and my people, Picard. The next time we meet, you will die.” Jean-Luc looked Loran in the eyes and shook his head. “I fail to see why you take it so personally. I am just doing my job, as are you. Surely we can put this aside?” The inky black being stepped closer, the odd smell of burnt cloves becoming stronger. “You Federation…you are expanding faster than a fungal infection. My people are being deprived of what we desperately need…and it’s your fault! You are an emissary of a vast, hungry conglomerate who takes what they want from worlds far from your boundaries. Your appetite is insatiable! And, to make matters worse, you belittle me! You, human, are beneath contempt.” Jean-Luc sighed. “Loran…” The being held up a warning hand. “Say no more, Picard, my threat stays. The next time we meet, you will die…slowly.” The human Ambassador summoned a dry smile. “Then you will forgive me if I say I hope that doesn’t occur.” The glowing yellow eyes of the Keloran shone brightly as she snarled softly. She turned and stalked away, leaving Jean-Luc to pack his belongings. Two months later, a concerned Nechayev visited Jean-Luc at Star Fleet Medical. The Ambassador had been badly injured in a negotiation that went horribly wrong. Whilst in the process of negotiating a trade agreement on a world that was experiencing political turmoil, terrorists detonated a bomb in the meeting chamber, killing several delegates and injuring over a hundred. Jean-Luc had been one of the injured. So bad were his injuries that he was placed in stasis, his condition too frail to attempt repair on a Starship. He was taken immediately to Earth, where he underwent hours of delicate surgery to heal him. It had been ten days since he had cheated death and the Admiral was going to suggest he have some time off. As expected, Jean-Luc was resisting. Nechayev was running out of patience. “Look, Ambassador, I’m not suggesting retirement…just a holiday for goodness sake.” The stubborn man shook his head. “I appreciate your concern, Admiral, but I can assure you, a holiday is not necessary.” Adopting a different tack, Nechayev retrieved a chair and sat, crossing her legs and appearing relaxed. Summoning what she hoped was a warm smile, she said softly, “Ambassador…” She lowered her head and the smile broadened. “…Jean-Luc, you have been at the pointy end for most of you career. First as a Starfleet Captain, and now as one of the Federation’s most respected Ambassadors. Surely you can see that if you don’t take some time to recuperate, you just might burn out.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, dropping her voice confidentially. “I am aware of how Crusher’s…disappearance affected you, and I know you haven’t fully recovered from it, but really…can you honestly say you can’t do with the rest?” Jean-Luc opened his mouth to rebut her, but she held up her hand. “I could make it an order.” The bluff failed miserably. Jean-Luc smiled wryly and shook his head. “Nice try, but you and I both know you can’t do that. My orders may come through you, but they originate with the Federation Council.” He sat up straighter in bedside chair and sighed. “Admiral, I need to get back to work, the sooner the better.” Stymied, Nechayev sat back and huffed. “Very well, but will you at least take some easier assignments? There is absolutely no reason why you have to consistently take the most dangerous jobs.” Jean-Luc smiled, but it was a sad smile. “I would prefer to make my own choices, Admiral, but I do appreciate your concern.” The small woman sat back and shook her head. “You’re a stubborn man, Jean-Luc. Very well, it seems you will carry on just as before, but I must tender my protest with the Federation Council. I believe you are acting in a self-destructive manner.” The Ambassador sighed and lowered his head. “Admiral, with all due respect, all the Federation Council sees is results. They won’t…in fact they can’t acknowledge how the results were gained. I understand why you’re protesting, but it will fall on deaf ears.” Nechayev’s eyes darkened. “You’re right, of course, but I can’t sit idly by while one of the most respected men I have ever known quietly goes about killing himself.” Jean-Luc’s smile was self-depreciating. “Oh I think that’s a little dramatic.” “Is it?” Growing tired of the conversation, Jean-Luc sighed. “My mind is made up, Admiral.” She stood and looked down at the man she had known for so long. “I do hope I don’t have to deliver your eulogy, Ambassador.” He looked up at her and smiled. “As do I, Admiral.” He was out of Medical and back in space in under ten days. Two months and three assignments later, Jean-Luc found his new assignment very pleasing and for once it hadn’t appeared dangerous. It was a simple matter of a new world wishing to join the Federation. He found the Dereen a lovely people, if not a little off-putting in their appearance. They were a very tall people, averaging over three metres in height, but what most humans had trouble with was that their ‘heads’ were in their midriffs. They possessed five violet eyes, arranged in a straight line across their middle. Four arms were attached to their upper bodies and four legs managed to propel them with great speed in the low gravity of their world. They had wide, splayed feet and tufts of dark blue hair, which contrasted nicely with their light blue skin colouring, on the tops of their bulbous bodies. He had taken this assignment simply because it was in a region of space he’d never been. The negotiations had been going well, although Jean-Luc was aware there was another negotiator, but, as was the habit of the Dereen, the protagonists were never to meet. His Dereenian counterpart made a facial expression Jean-Luc had learned was a smile. The slit of a mouth seemed to stretch and small, hard, bone-like gums were exposed. “You are pleased, Ambassador.” The universal translator had had some difficulty with Dereenian language, so, to facilitate matters, the Dereen spoke in very simple sentences. Jean-Luc smiled and offered a slight bow. “I am, Ambassador. This treaty is beneficial to both our worlds.” The Dereenian bent his top half. “Yes, but you represent more than one world, Ambassador, while I represent simply my people.” “And you do so very well.” The being smiled again. “Thank you, Ambassador. I must say I prefer you’re way of negotiating. You have made our impending entry into the United Federation of Planets most exciting. The other Ambassador concentrated on causing us fear if we did not join with her world. She did say some very…unpleasant things about the Federation.” Jean-Luc sighed, making the alien smile again. “It is true the Federation has enemies, Ambassador, but by joining us, you will enjoy our protection as well as our prosperity.” The being bowed again. “That is our hope. Now, Ambassador, with the signing of the documents your duty is complete. Would you like to enjoy our hospitality before you return to your ship?” With his smile reaching his eyes, Jean-Luc sadly shook his head. “No, Ambassador, but thank you. I will go and pack my things then beam up to my ship.” “As you wish, Ambassador. Please know you are welcome to return any time you wish.” Jean-Luc watched the remarkable being walk away and sighed. “Time for my next job.” He was about fifty metres from his lodgings when he sensed someone behind him. He turned, but too late. Something sharp pierced the skin of his neck and immediately he lost feeling in his body. A dark arm wrapped around him, keeping him upright as he smelled burnt cloves. “You are mine now, Picard.” The last thing he saw was the sparkle of a transporter beam. Jean-Luc woke up in a darkened room. He moved experimentally and found he was immobile, lying flat on a table of some sort. His eyes felt gritty and his mouth was bone dry, but apart from that, he seemed to be unhurt. Wishing to face his abductor, Jean-Luc cleared his throat and called out, “Who are you and what do you want?” A familiar voice came from the shadows to his left. “I told you what would happen the next time you belittled me and my people, Picard.” With a sigh, Jean-Luc managed to shake his head a little. “This is so unnecessary, Loran. Let me go, you don’t think the Federation will do nothing about this?” The alien snorted. “I don’t give as damn about your precious Federation. By the time they know you’re missing, you will be dead.” Showing little regard for his own life, Jean-Luc laughed outright. “What do you hope to achieve, Loran? You kill me and someone will take my place. You will gain nothing.” The anger in Loran’s voice thickened it. “What will I achieve, Picard? I will get my honour back and my people will be rid of a thorn in their side.” Jean-Luc’s bravado provoked the alien into stepping up to him menacingly. “And what then? Hmm? Will you kill the next Federation Ambassador who annoys you? And the next and the next?” The punch made a meaty sound as it connected under Jean-Luc’s eye. Outwardly, he didn’t react, saying softly instead, “End this, Loran. Let me go.” The Keloran stepped back and reached into the folds of her black robe. Her sooty hand re emerged with a remote control. She pointed it at Jean-Luc and activated it. The table he was on began to rise, continuing until it was upright. The restraints that held him didn’t give at all and Jean-Luc found he couldn’t move. She moved closer and ran her fingers through the blood that trickled from the wound under his eye her punch had caused. Her tone of voice was almost conversational. “I had considered stripping you naked, Picard, but the sight of a naked human male was just too repulsive. Her hand once again disappeared inside the folds of her robe. This time it emerged with a weapon. “You would be familiar with collumnated energy weapons?” Jean-Luc said nothing. Loran ignored his silence and went on as if he had acknowledged her. “This weapon is somewhat different; it’s more akin to a disruptor type weapon. It has a most intriguing effect on human flesh. Let me demonstrate.” With lazy indifference she aimed at his right knee and fired. The beam was only activated for a second, but the effect was devastating. Jean-Luc’s knee disintegrated, but that wasn’t all. As he screamed in agony, the flesh around his knee was eaten away until his lower leg was separated from his thigh. “You see? Wasn’t that wonderful?” She laughed, a dry, cruel sound and aimed the weapon again and fired. This time his left knee disintegrated. “How much time do we have, Picard? I could do this for hours, it’s most amusing.” The wretched man blinked away his tears and glared at the Keloran. Though he was panting, his voice was strong. “This is meaningless, Loran. You demean yourself with this behaviour.” Anger glittered in her glowing yellow eyes as she shouted, “You know nothing about me, Picard!” She aimed and fired again, separating his lower arm at the elbow. Although Jean-Luc screamed, his eyes remained fixed on the alien. Loran didn’t wait for him to say anything, instead disintegrating his other elbow. His voice ruined by screaming, Jean-Luc lifted his head and ground out, “Why prolong this, Loran. Why don’t you just kill me?” The alien screeched in rage. “Why don’t you beg, human?” Jean-Luc managed to shake his head, almost whispering, “I won’t beg, Loran.” The Keloran stepped back, taking several deep breaths. Having calmed herself, she seemed to smile. “I have heard that human male’s genitals are particularly sensitive. I wonder how it would feel if I did this?” With deliberate sloth, she raised the weapon, aimed it Jean-Luc’s groin and fired. Jean-Luc’s scream was truncated as he lost consciousness. He came to with someone slapping his face. He gasped in agony, his violated body resonating with searing pain. “You don’t deserve oblivion, Picard! I haven’t finished with you yet.” Despite his agony, Jean-Luc summoned his ruined voice to rasp, “You are a coward, Loran.” She raised the weapon again, anger seething through her every pore, but she hesitated and smiled. “You are crafty, Picard. You wish to provoke me, but I am cleverer than that.” She held up a device in her free hand. “My scanner tells me you have an artificial heart. I wonder how long you would live without it.” As Jean-Luc watched, Loran inputted an instruction to the weapon. She stepped up to Jean-Luc and gripped his chin, whilst pressing the muzzle of the weapon against his left breast. As she depressed the trigger she hissed, “I hate you Picard.” The intense beam immediately disintegrated his heart and all of the tissue around it, until a hole existed right through Jean-Luc’s body. Surprisingly, there was little blood loss. When the poor man had stopped writhing, Loran stepped back and consulted her scanner. “I’m timing you, Picard; don’t let me down by dying too quickly.” Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult as Jean-Luc’s brain was deprived of life sustaining blood and oxygen. His vision began to grey as he managed to say softly, “This will haunt you for the rest of your life, Loran. I pity you.” As Jean-Luc’s life faded away, his last thought was of his beloved Beverly. Loran approached him slowly and scanned his dead body. She spat into his face and left the room. Beverly stood, mouth agape as she stared down at her lifeless body. Shocked to her very core, her nerveless hand dropped the phaser that had so efficiently taken her life. It clattered on the floor, the sound shaking her from her numbness. Her training took over. Stooping quickly, she picked up the phaser and systematically went around the lab, destroying all the biological specimens she could find. Then she shook her backpack off her shoulders and removed the explosive devices. The facility she was in wasn’t large, consisting of a laboratory and a small suite of rooms containing a bedroom, bathroom and a tiny eating area. With practiced efficiency, Beverly went from room to room, placing her explosives with care. Satisfied that the job was complete, she exited the facility and made off into the thick undergrowth, heading for her shuttle. Whilst travelling through the undergrowth she kept her mind occupied with only one set of thoughts. Get back to the shuttle and send the signal to detonate the explosives. With her mouth set in a grim line, she forged her way through the foliage, desperately trying to keep her emotions under control. Although her tricorder clearly showed the position of the shuttle, she was startled when she burst out of the bush and found it. She made quick work of getting inside and, once she was seated in the cockpit, she activated the link to the explosives and lifted her hand to depress the switch. Hesitating momentarily, she took a deep breath and savagely stabbed her finger down. She didn’t hear the resultant explosion, but her sensors told her the task had been completed. In an almost trance-like state, Beverly left the cockpit and walked stiffly to the aft section, before dropping into a seat and lowering her head into her hands. As she quietly began to weep, the memories of the past months came back to her. After her meeting with the mysterious officers, Beverly had been taken to a medical facility where her appearance was surgically altered. Then she was thoroughly briefed on her mission. She was told that two years from now, she was going to resign from Starfleet and disappear with the intent to manufacture a biological weapon with the express objective being to exterminate the entire Keloran species. Beverly was given a crash course in the deployment of explosives, the last known whereabouts of her future self and a new name. She was now known as Cheryl McFadden. The last thing she had to do was to be transported into the future. The Admiral she had come to think of as the leader took her to an odd room which was perfectly round and shiny on the inside. In the exact centre was a bio bed. The old Admiral smiled in a kindly fashion and gestured for Beverly to lie down. She did so reluctantly, but when the Admiral gently patted her hand, she felt oddly reassured. He produced a hypospray and said softly, “You cannot be awake for this.” Beverly wanted to argue, but instead held her tongue. The hiss of the hypo was loud in the otherwise silent room. As her consciousness fled the room began to glow. There was a woman there when Beverly regained her senses. The Doctor didn’t recognise the uniform the woman wore, nor did she like the way the woman said brusquely, “Get up, we have much to do.” Her mind was a little foggy, but Beverly rose and followed the woman from the room. She was led through a series of corridors until she came to a conference room. There, to her astonishment, stood the old Admiral, now looking even more ancient. He smiled and gestured to a seat. Beverly sat numbly, trying to make sense of her surroundings. “I know you feel disorientated, but it will pass. We have made available a shuttle, it is voice activated, you will have no trouble operating it. Take this device, it will tell you all you need to know to begin your search.” Beverly took the device and frowned. It was small, round, almost flat and silver in colour. She turned it in her hands, her confusion complete. “I don’t understand. How do I use this?” The elderly Admiral went to her and took the device. He smiled and pressed it against her right temple. Suddenly information flooded into Beverly’s head. She gasped and held up her hands. The Admiral removed the device and all was silent. “While you were being surgically altered, Doctor, your brain was implanted with the necessary hardware to receive this device. It makes matters much more…simple.” Before Beverly could voice her disquiet, the Admiral went on. “We have found a woman who was a close friend…of yours…she seems to be the only person Doctor Crusher confided in. We do know the last place you were living at, but that information is at least a month old. It is hoped, if you can befriend this other woman, that she will be able to tell you where you went.” He smiled in his gentle way and sighed. “We do understand what it is we are asking of you, Doctor, and we also understand how difficult this must be for you, but what your future self intends to do is monstrous. She must be stopped, at whatever the cost.” Beverly nodded slowly and sighed. “I can’t believe what she intends and I can’t imagine what may have happened to bring her to this, but I agree with you. I’ll stop her…somehow.” The Admiral stepped closer and gripped her arm with surprising strength. “Let me make this clear, Doctor. If you cannot stop her, you must kill her and destroy her work. It is imperative!” Swallowing, Beverly nodded. “I understand.” The old man relented slightly. “There is something you must know, something which we think might make things clearer for you.” Beverly’s eyebrows rose. “Two years ago, your friend…Jean-Luc Picard…was murdered. By a Keloran.” The colour drained from Beverly’s face. She gripped the arms of her seat, her voice barely a whisper. “Jean-Luc…is …dead?” The Admiral nodded sadly. “We can’t go into details, suffice it to say his death was a terrible blow for the entire Federation.” Beverly took a long, steadying breath. “Well I can see how…she…would take that hard.” The elderly man nodded. “Yes.” Beverly stood and summoned a wan smile. “So…where do I start?” The woman who had brought Beverly into the room stepped forward. “The woman you are to meet has Grave’s disease. Your cover is that of her new treating physician.” Beverly scowled. “I’m not sure I want to use a patient as a source of information. That seems a little unethical.” The Admiral snorted. “Don’t you think that’s quibbling over trivialities? When you look at the bigger picture…” Beverly held up a hand, her face showing her contrition. “I understand, Sir. My apologies.” The woman briskly walked to the door, obviously waiting for Beverly to follow her. This she did and, as they walked, the woman kept up a constant barrage of instructions. “The shuttle is already programmed to take you to the woman’s home on Gault. You should know that Grave’s disease is not the fatal illness it once was, although the treatment is protracted. All the information you need is on your infodisc, including a comprehensive update of medical advancements. Your patient, Helen Parker, has no known relatives. Her current status is on the infodisc. Her interests include herbal medicine and music, before the onset of her disease she was an accomplished classical pianist. You will find her file most interesting.” They had come to a transporter room. “You will transport to your shuttle, all you have to do is identify yourself and the computer will take over. I suggest you use your travel time to bring yourself up to date with the mission as it stands.” The woman stuck out her hand. “Good luck, Doctor Crusher.” In a daze, Beverly shook the woman’s hand but never had the time to say anything further. She rematerialised in a shuttle, the likes of which she’d never seen before. She walked forward into the cockpit, sat and said tentatively, “Crusher, Beverly.” She got no further. The engines came on line and the sleek craft lifted off. The computer said softly, “Good afternoon, Doctor McFadden. From this moment on, you must think of yourself as Doctor Cheryl McFadden. Our journey to Gault will take six days. I hope you enjoy the trip.” Saying absently, “Thank you.”, Beverly went aft. It wasn’t until she thought to look out the viewscreen that she noticed the planet she was leaving wasn’t Earth. She frowned and asked, “Computer, what planet are we leaving?” “That information is classified. Please confine yourself to queries pertaining to ship’s business only.” Beverly glared at the ceiling and huffed, muttering to herself, “Over officious bucket of bolts!” She looked around and noted a black backpack leaning against the starboard bulkhead. That, she knew, contained all she would need to complete her mission. She sighed and dug in her pocket, fishing out the infodisc. She raised her hand and tentatively held the disc against her right temple. Despite thinking the journey may have been boring; Beverly found it was quite the opposite. The computer turned out to be a good companion, once she found it was willing to engage in non-consequential conversation. She arrived on Gault in the early afternoon and was met at the landing point by a young man in his early twenties. “Doctor McFadden?” Beverly smiled warmly, noting that a light rain was falling. “Yes, I’m Cheryl McFadden.” The young man offered his hand. “Doctor Marcus Key. I hope you had a pleasant journey.” He gestured to a small building and together they went inside. “Just a routine quarantine check, Doctor. This is a farming colony and we are very careful to make sure no dangerous pathogens make their way here.” Smiling and giving a nod, Beverly stood still while she and her carry case were scanned. Receiving a smile of acceptance from Marcus, Beverly asked, “Are you a medical Doctor?” The young man nodded. “Yes I am and I must say I am pleased you are here. Helen Parker is progressing, albeit slowly, but unfortunately I can’t afford the time she needs for me to be with her as much as I should. Our colony has grown a lot these past five years and I find my services are in constant demand.” Beverly nodded thoughtfully. “So I take it not only am I to be her physician, but I am also to augment your services.” Marcus offered a rakish grin and nodded. “If you don’t mind.” His boyish charm amused Beverly and she chuckled. “Well I don’t see why not.” Waving his hand towards the door, Marcus led Beverly outside. “You will have the use of this flitter. I’ll take you to your accommodation first, then I’ll take you to the Parker residence.” Beverly nodded her acceptance and the both got into the flitter. Like the shuttle, it was fully automated. Beverly liked her accommodation. It consisted of four rooms, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and dining room, but what really pleased her was the balcony at the rear. It overlooked a vista of rolling hills and, in the light of late afternoon, the scent of flowering plants wafted in. Marcus could see his colleague liked what she saw. He waited while Beverly put her case in the bedroom then, armed with a med kit, she left her new abode and got back into the flitter. Helen Parker was tall for a human woman. Beverly had to look up to see into her dark green eyes, even though Grave’s disease had made the woman stoop. Beverly and Marcus were invited in and shown to seats in the living area. Helen’s gaze was a penetrating one and Beverly knew she was being appraised. Her voice deep for a woman, Helen asked, “How long have you been in medicine, Doctor McFadden?” Offering what she hoped was a confident smile; Beverly recalled what she had learned about her new identity. “Actually, not that long. I had originally been a pharmaceutical scientist, my change to medicine occurred only about five years ago.” Helen nodded thoughtfully, then asked, “May I know why you changed?” Beverly smiled warmly. “Of course. I just felt I was isolating myself too much, spending too much time on research and losing touch with people. I gave it a lot of thought and decided I could use my knowledge in medicine…and re-integrate myself into the population” Helen smiled, but remained somewhat wary. Beverly maintained her air of quiet friendliness and asked, “I have read your notes. I see that you had a long-term physician before Marcus.” The wariness increased. “Yes.” Beverly made a show of retrieving a PADD and looking at it. “That would be…Doctor Beverly Crusher?” All Helen did was nod. Sensing she was becoming closed, Beverly looked up and smiled. “Well I’m sure Marcus can fill in the blanks. Would you like to sort out your treatment schedule now?” The woman shrugged. “Tomorrow would be better, I’m rather tired now.” Beverly nodded. “All right, I’ll come back tomorrow, say ten?” Helen nodded. “Yes, that would be fine.” Beverly left the house with the distinct impression she was going to have to work hard to gain Helen’s trust. Marcus was able to tell Beverly all she needed to know as he took her back to her lodgings. They agreed she could do with a quiet evening, so Marcus arranged to meet with her the next morning. He would bring her flitter at the same time. Beverly waved as the little craft left the ground and went off up the road, the hum of its engine barely disturbing the peace. Sighing wistfully, Beverly went inside and made her way into the bedroom. On the wall next to the bathroom door was a full length mirror. Beverly stood in front of it and grimaced. Gone was the shoulder length red hair, in its place short cropped dark brown hair, greying slightly at the temples. Her cheek bones had been flattened a little and her lips thinned. She now possessed green hazel eyes and her chin was less pronounced. Even her breasts had been altered, now somewhat larger than they had been before. Extra fat had been added subcutaneously, giving her a slightly dumpy appearance with a thickened waist and a slight tummy bulge. Integrated into the skin of her hands was a film giving her new fingerprints. Her superiors had told her they didn’t think she’d be fingerprinted, but they wanted to err on the side of caution. With one hand on her hip, Beverly scowled at herself, muttering wryly, “You’ve let yourself go, woman.” Deciding to take a shower, she undressed, but avoided looking in the mirror once she was nude. Twenty minutes later she was sitting on a lounge on the back deck, taking advantage of the last of the light. Soon after she went inside, ate a light meal and went to bed. She was up early and ready when Marcus came by. He was with a friend who was driving the spare flitter. Once they arrived at Beverly’s home, she was given the chip to her own craft. The days passed quickly. At ten o’clock each day, Beverly would spend two hours with Helen, administering her treatment, then for the rest of the day she helped Marcus with his practice. She saw a wide variety of cases, from farming accidents to childbirth, but what she really devoted herself to, was befriending Helen Parker. One day, a month after Beverly had begun her tenure on Gault, she arrived at Helen’s home at the appointed time to find the front door open. Wafting outside was the sound of someone trying to play the piano. Silently, Beverly entered and stood just inside the living room, watching as Helen tried in vain to play. As yet another note was played badly, Helen let out a yell of frustration as she slammed the key cover down. Beverly went to her, saying quietly, “I may be able to help.” Helen’s head snapped around, her blue eyes flashing. “How did you get in here?” Pointing over her shoulder, Beverly said softly, “The front door was open.” Realising her mistake, Helen flushed. “Oh…sorry.” Beverly shrugged and went to the piano. “Don’t be.” She pointed to Helen’s hands. “I think I can help.” Holding up her twisted and gnarled hands, Helen snorted. “What…cut them off and give me prostheses?” Beverly chuckled quietly and shook her head. “No, although that’s not a bad idea. However I think we can do quite a bit with what you have.” Curious now, Helen tilted her head and for the first time, looked at Beverly with something other than wariness. “How?” Gently taking one of Helen’s hands, Beverly traced her forefinger over one of the contorted tendons. “I can cut and regenerate these. It would take about two months to successfully treat both hands, but when finished, you would have regained the ability to manipulate your fingers.” Helen looked down at her hands and sighed. “But would I be able to play?” It was Beverly’s turn to sigh. “I’m not sure you would be able to play as you once did, but you most certainly would be able to play proficiently.” Looking into Beverly’s eyes, Helen said softly, “When can we start?” Beverly grinned and took out a PADD from her med kit. “I’ll just check my schedule.” There was a momentary silence, broken when Beverly looked up and smiled. “Marcus can do without me today. Would you like to begin immediately?” Helen’s eyes danced. “Yes!” With a chuckle, Beverly gave a nod. “Then I need to set up. Give me ten minutes.” Helen laughed and looked incredulously at her hands. “I can’t believe it. I thought I was going to be stuck with these for the rest of my life.” As Beverly went about her work, she chatted. “Grave’s disease attacks the sinews and tendons as well as the muscles, but the treatment to repair the damage has only recently become available. I was going to discuss it with you; I was just waiting for the opportune time.” Helen laughed. “And hearing my pathetic efforts on the piano opened the window?” Beverly grinned lopsidedly. “Well it did seem like an ideal way to broach the subject.” Helen’s smile faded and she gave Beverly a speculative look. “You know…you’re a lot like my last Doctor.” Beverly’s heart accelerated, but outwardly she didn’t miss a beat. “Oh really? In what way?” Helen shrugged. “Oh lots of ways. You’re very direct, you have a wicked sense of humour and you’re very compassionate.” Beverly looked up and grinned. “All good qualities of being a reasonable Doctor.” With a thoughtful nod, Helen went to Beverly as she beckoned to her. Sitting at her dining room table, she lay her forearms on the sterile sheet Beverly had laid out. Beverly activated the sterile field and administered a nerve block to both arms. “Now this will take a while so I will need you to keep absolutely still. Okay?” Helen nodded and Beverly began her work, noticing that the woman’s eyes never left her. Almost an hour later, Beverly straightened then stretched. “There, I’ve finished this treatment.” Helen looked down at her hands and smiled. “I can’t feel them.” Beverly returned the smile. “I know. The nerve block will take about two hours to wear off, then I expect you will need some analgesics, but not for long. By tomorrow you should begin to feel the benefits of what I did today.” Helen nodded, then asked, “Why does the treatment take two months?” “Because I have to wait for you to heal before I can do more.” Helen nodded slowly, then frowned. “What about regen therapy?” With her eyebrows raised, Beverly smiled wryly. “Trying to tell me how to do my job?” Helen flushed and shook her head. “Not at all, I just thought it might speed things up, that’s all.” Offering a conciliatory smile, Beverly shook her head. “Regen therapy won’t help. There’s nothing wrong with your tissues per se, we just have to wait while your body reassesses what it now has. You have to remember, you’ve been debilitated by Grave’s disease for over seven years, the damage that’s caused can’t be eradicated overnight. What I’ve done today is to free up and lengthen the sinews and tendons in your fingers. We have yet to do the palms and thumbs and I can’t even attempt those jobs until your fingers have completely healed.” Helen looked down at her now straight fingers and smiled. It was with gratitude that she said softly, “Well I just want you to know I’m very happy with what you’ve already done…Cheryl.” It was the first time Helen had referred to Beverly by her new name and the Doctor was inordinately pleased. She grinned up at her patient and winked. “Just as long as you invite me to your first concert.” Helen chuckled and nodded. “You’re on!” Over the next few weeks Beverly and Helen grew closer. Now much more relaxed with each other, Helen would often invite Beverly to stay for a cup of tea before she left. In the heat of the morning sun and in the leafy shade of the arbour on the back balcony, Beverly sipped her tea, watching Helen over the rim of her cup. Judging her moment carefully, Beverly put her cup down and ran her fingers around the rim. “You know, it would help me a lot if I could talk to your previous physician.” Helen looked up and frowned. “But I thought you got all you needed from Marcus?” With a shrug, Beverly picked up a biscuit and nibbled it. “I got a complete update of your current treatment, but we are dealing with the after effects of Grave’s. Doctor Crusher treated you through the disease’s active phase. I haven’t ever had a patient in the active phase of Grave’s and it would help me a great deal if I could talk to Doctor Crusher about your case.” Helen’s face hardened and her eyes glittered. “Professional concerns…or morbid curiosity?” Beverly pursed her lips. “That’s not fair.” They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds before Helen lowered her head and sighed. “You’re right, it’s not. Sorry, Cheryl…I just feel very protective towards Doctor Crusher, she’d been through a lot before she came to Gault.” Beverly picked up her biscuit and dunked before quickly lifting it to her mouth to bite. She chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds then sighed. “I’ve always felt that a burden shared is a burden halved. Want to talk about it?” Helen shrugged. “I’m not sure if I should.” Beverly offered her most winning smile. “I’m a Doctor; I know how to keep a confidence.” Helen hesitated, then sighed. “Doctor Crusher was a very sad person. She never told me the entire story, but from what I could gather, she was responsible for the death of someone she loved...a man.” Beverly’s mind reeled. “Jean-Luc!” Outwardly she remained calm and asked, “Did she ever tell you who it was?” With another sigh, Helen shook her head. “No. I kinda worked out…from bits and pieces she told me that she was once in Starfleet. I think this person was too…or maybe not. I once heard her refer to him as an Ambassador. In any case, his death had a terrible effect on her. She became really bitter; she lost interest in being a Doctor and eventually left Gault. In fact, I think she left medicine all together.” Taking a risk, Beverly asked softly, “Do you know where she went?” Helen’s eyes sharpened, then her face softened. “Not really. I think she went initially to Harrun, but I got the impression she wasn’t going to stay there.” She sighed pensively, then quickly lifted her head. “One thing though…she was obsessed with a person called Loran…a Keloran, I think. Beverly once told me she really needed to find this woman, though I don’t know why. She spent endless hours trawling through the data base looking for her. I don’t know if she ever found her.” Beverly drained her tea and smiled. “Well I suppose we’ll never know. I will make a few enquiries…see if I can track down Doctor Crusher.” Helen smiled wanly. “If you do find her, tell her I’m thinking of her will you? We were quite close.” Coming to her feet, Beverly nodded. “Of course. Now I’d best be going, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Helen went to rise, but Beverly waved her back to her seat. “I can see myself out, thanks.” Instead of going to Marcus’s clinic, Beverly drove to the hanger at the space port. Once inside her shuttle she said quietly, “Computer, access the personnel file for the station on Harrun.” The wait was only a few seconds. “Accessed.” “Is there any record of Doctor Beverly Crusher visiting the station?” “Yes. On Stardate 8429.21” Beverly thought for a few seconds, then asked, “How long did she stay?” “Five days.” “Do you know what her purpose for being there was?” “She searched the data base, secured some supplies and hired a small spacecraft.” Clenching her jaw, Beverly asked the most crucial question. “When she left, did she file a flight plan?” “Yes, but only as far as her next destination.” “And that was?” “Starbase Lindbergh.” Sitting back, Beverly took a deep breath and then sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Computer, contact Starbase Lindbergh and ask if they have any record of Doctor Crusher’s visit. I want to know how long she stayed and where she went when she left.” “Acknowledged. There will be a wait of several hours” “ Also, scan the data base again at Harrun and see if you can find anything pertaining to a Keloran national named Loren.” “Acknowledged.” There was a wait of a few seconds. “The Keloran national named Loren is deceased. She was found, presumably murdered on Stardate 8436.89 on the planet designated 668K by a survey team led by…” “Enough. Was the murderer ever found?” “No, the investigation is ongoing.” Beverly frowned and chewed her lower lip. “Who is leading the investigation?” “That information is unavailable. The Keloran authorities do not share their investigation notes with the Federation.” Sighing, Beverly sat back and stared at her hands. There were some questions she wanted to ask about Jean-Luc, but she dreaded the answers. Taking a large breath, Beverly cleared her throat and tried to steady her voice. “Computer, what are the details of the death of Jean-Luc Picard?” “Ambassador Jean-Luc Picard’s body was discovered by Lieutenant Francis Jones on Stardate 8421.01. When the Ambassador had not contacted or returned to his ship, a party was sent to find him. He was eventually found in a subterranean room beneath a merchant’s store on Dereena II. He had been there to negotiate the admittance of the Dereen into the Federation. It was evident by his injuries that he had been tortured. Death was due to lack of blood and oxygen to the brain. His heart had been vaporised.” Wiping at her tears, Beverly asked shakily, “Was the murderer ever found?” “No. The investigation bogged down due to lack of evidence and witnesses. During the course of the investigation, it became clear that the chief negotiator for the Keloran, an individual by the name of Loran, made it abundantly clear she had a grudge against Ambassador Picard, the root of which seemed to stem from other situations the two individuals had met over. However the Keloran delegation left Dereena before they could be questioned and, to date, have refused all requests for interview. Loran remained the chief suspect in the Ambassador’s murder until her death on Stardate, 8436.89.” Bowing her head, Beverly took a deep, shaky breath and closed her eyes. “Computer, on what date did Jean-Luc Picard resign the captaincy of the USS Enterprise?” “That occurred on Stardate 8419.07.” She sighed and whispered, “He lasted just on a year after I left.” She sighed again. “Computer, where are Jean-Luc Picard’s remains?” “Ambassador Jean-Luc Picard was cremated and his ashes interred in the family plot in LaBarre, France.” “And was there a memorial?” “Yes. There was a formal memorial, hosted by the Federation Council in collaboration with Starfleet. That was followed by a private ceremony for family and friends at his home in LaBarre.” Sniffing softly, Beverly asked gently, “Do you have any images or vids of his memorial?” “Yes.” Beverly lifted her head and turned the nearby monitor until it faced her. “Display all images and vids on this terminal.” “Acknowledged.” An hour later she was openly weeping. Sobbing quietly she managed, “Oh Jean-Luc…what have I done?” She slowly regained control and lifted her head to stare at the ceiling. Her blue eyes glittered and she felt a strange quiet fill her soul. With resolute determination she whispered, “I am going to put this right…somehow I am going to stop this.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “Computer encrypt all evidence of my recent enquiries.” “Acknowledged, however such encryption will not preclude investigation by your superiors.” “Understood. I will return tomorrow.” “Acknowledged.” Beverly travelled to her lodgings and spent the rest of the day in deep contemplation. As it turned out, Beverly’s prediction of two months to repair Helen’s hands proved to be wrong. Being an exceptional healer, Helen recovered much quicker from each treatment than anyone could have hoped for. So it was that a mere five weeks passed before the treatment came to its end. Beverly smiled with quiet pride as Helen sat at her piano and played Beverly’s favourite piece. As the exquisite strains of Debussy’s Claire DeLune drifted through the rooms, Beverly could not help but quietly weep. Engrossed in her playing, it was not until Helen finished that she looked up to see Beverly’s emotions laid bare. Immediately concerned, Helen left the piano and went to Beverly, taking her hands and leading her to the sofa. Once both woman were seated she asked gently, “Are you all right?” The Doctor raised a wobbly smile and nodded, but the tears kept flowing. Wishing to ease her pain, Helen smiled wryly and snorted. “It can’t have been my playing; I’m not that good…yet.” Beverly chuckled sadly and shook her head. She recovered enough to sigh and explain. “That piece is a favourite of mine.” Helen nodded, but remained sceptical. “But you didn’t appear to be taken by the music, Cheryl. Yours were tears of sadness.” Her eyes filled again, but Beverly wiped at them. “It was also the favourite piece of someone very dear to me; in fact it was he who introduced me to it in the first place.” Her frown deepening, Helen said warily, “Okay, but why does it make you so sad.” Barely whispering, Beverly said shakily, “Because he died.” Helen’s eyes fell. “Oh.” Knowing she had to move on with her investigation, Beverly took a shaky breath and squeezed Helen’s hands. “Helen, there’s not much more I can do for you now. Your treatment for Grave’s disease is almost complete and I feel I have to move on.” The words didn’t come as a surprise to Helen, she had suspected Beverly was becoming restless, but her face fell and she sighed. “I thought we had become friends.” Closing her eyes briefly, Beverly tried to ease the woman’s pain. “We have, but there’s something I have to do. I can’t stay.” Helen looked into Beverly’s eyes and whispered, “It was the music, wasn’t it.” Beverly smiled and lowered her head. “It reminded me of what I have to do.” “Because of him…the one who died?” Shocked that she should be so transparent, Beverly momentarily contemplated lying, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. She looked into Helen’s eyes and nodded. “Yes. I loved him and I never told him. I owe him.” Confused, Helen said quietly, “But he’s dead.” Her eyes filling with fresh tears, Beverly smiled lopsidedly. “Yes, that’s the point.” The two women held each other’s gaze for a few minutes, then Helen took her hands out of Beverly’s gentle grip and sighed. “I won’t pretend I understand, Cheryl, but if you have something you must do to find inner peace, then do it.” Her glittering eyes clearly showing her gratitude, Beverly nodded. “Marcus will be able to oversee what little remains of your treatment.” With a wave of her hand, Helen dismissed the words. “Don’t worry about me, Cheryl. You go and do what it is you must, I’ll be fine.” Beverly stood and smiled down at her friend and patient. “Thank you.” She was almost at the door when she heard Helen’s gentle voice for the final time. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Cheryl.” Beverly looked over her shoulder, smiled then left the house. Beverly spent the remainder of the day with only half her mind on her job. Who was Loran and what did Beverly want with her? How did she die…and who killed her? And did this Loran person kill Jean-Luc? One thing was certain…she had to find out. Beverly left Gault two days later. Marcus was sad to see her go, the colonists had warmed to her and Marcus had found he was learning a lot by simply watching her work, but after he quickly discovered she would not yield to his pleas for her to stay, he gave up trying and wished her well. Her journey to Harrun was uncomplicated, if a little boring. She stayed only long enough to learn if Beverly had told anyone of either her eventual destination or her intentions. She was back underway in less than three hours, knowing little more than she already did. Starbase Lindbergh was only two days travel, so Beverly spent her time going over the files pertaining to Jean-Luc’s missions as an Ambassador. She had only been reading for ten minutes when it became patently obvious that a pattern of reckless behaviour was becoming evident. It seemed Jean-Luc was undertaking ever more dangerous missions and Beverly was quickly overcome by a wave of guilt. The more she read the more she realised that Jean-Luc was deliberately putting himself in dangerous situations…and Beverly thought she knew why. She thought back to their acrimonious parting, how his pain and sorrow had shown so clearly in his eyes. Then, with a stab in her heart, she recalled how desperately he had wanted to be able to love her, to show his love…to make love to her…and she had forbidden him. Beverly sat back and squeezed her fingers into her eyes, hoping the pain would overcome her guilt. She had thought she knew what she was doing, that the relationship she had demanded from him was right…at least for her, but was it? Really? How long had she denied her feelings for Jean-Luc? Months? Years? Yes, dammit, she knew she loved him, but she thought a romantic relationship would be too…what? Binding? Confining?...Wonderful? She sighed and realised she was crying. In denying her true feelings for Jean-Luc what had she set in motion? Rising from her seat, she stalked around the interior of the shuttle, seething with too many emotions. Why had she not returned to the Enterprise? Why had she allowed Jean-Luc to virtually kill himself? She must have known what he was doing, must have known what was in his heart. Beverly simply couldn’t believe that her future self would have severed all contact with Jean-Luc. If nothing else they had been best friends for thirty years. No, something had changed, if not with their relationship, then with Beverly herself. The only way she would ever find answers to her questions was to find Beverly…find herself. Had it not been for her mission, Beverly would have enjoyed a protracted stay at Starbase Lindbergh. It was one of the older stations, but had undergone several extensive refits. It now boasted one of the most sophisticated laboratories devoted to the pharmacological benefits of plant life. In their vast arboretum grew specimens from all over the quadrant, many very rare. Given time, Beverly would have happily immersed herself in research, expanding her already prodigious knowledge of medicinal plants. However, she was on a mission and time was of the essence. And, as luck would have it, fortune smiled on her. She found very little of Beverly’s plans in the database, but a seemingly innocuous comment had the recipient directing her to a small cabin, situated on level nineteen. Not knowing quite what to expect, Beverly arrived at the quarters and pressed the chime. The door opened to reveal an elderly woman. Somewhat taken aback, Beverly struggled to introduce herself. “Oh, I beg your pardon…ah; my name is…ah…Cheryl McFadden. I was told you might be able to tell me something of the plans of…Beverly Crusher.” With very bright, knowing, pale blue eyes, the old woman smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. When she spoke, Beverly was surprised by the strength and timbre of her voice. “Do you know Doctor Crusher?” Beverly smiled, feeling confident again. “Yes, actually I know her quite well.” Still barring the door, the old woman slowly looked Beverly up and down and sighed. “I never heard her mention you.” Suspicious, Beverly said firmly, “If I may ask, just what is your function on this base?” The smile widened and Beverly could plainly see amusement in the woman’s eyes. “What you mean to ask is…What is an ancient old crone like me doing in space?” Letting out a soft chuckle, Beverly nodded. “Okay, what are you doing here?” Instead of answering, the old woman turned and beckoned Beverly inside by crooking her gnarled fingers. The Doctor followed her inside and came to a halt, her mouth agape. Everywhere, upon each and every surface, shelf, table and chair sat small pots bearing seedlings. Some were several centimetres tall, but most consisted of just a little sprig. The old woman turned to Beverly and folded her hands. “I seem to have a knack with these.” She swept her arm, making Beverly laugh delightedly. “You also have a gift for understatement! My God, how many plants are here?” Shrugging, the woman went to the kitchenette and retrieved an atomiser. As she walked among the seedlings she sprayed water. “I lost count a long time ago. The head botanist comes and goes…he takes what he wants and gives me seeds or cuttings in return.” While the old woman was busy, Beverly took the time to have a good look at her. She frowned and said hesitatingly, “Forgive me for asking, but are you…fully human?” Smiling mysteriously, the old woman tilted her head. “I will tell you if you answer a question for me.” Beverly shrugged. “Fair enough.” “Are you a medical doctor?” Beverly nodded. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am.” With a thoughtful nod, the old woman smiled. “Very well, I will answer your question. No, I am not fully human. I am a hybrid. Half human, half Deltan.” Beverly gasped. “I didn’t think such a mixture was possible.” The old woman chuckled and gestured to her plants. “Like most of my children. Many of them are cross breeds, but under my care, they flourish.” Still stunned, Beverly asked quietly, “How old are you?” Turning to face Beverly, there was a mysterious glint in her pale eyes. “In your terms, one hundred and eighty seven Terran years…and before you ask, yes, I produce the sexual pheromones so prized by my Deltan forebears. I have five lovers amongst the crew of this station and they are well pleased. I, on the other hand, am barely satisfied.” She moved closer to Beverly and placed the atomiser at her dainty feet. “Now, Cheryl McFadden, just what is it you wish to know about Beverly Crusher? And why do you want to know it?” Sensing that nothing but honesty would be acceptable; Beverly took a large breath and steadied herself. Looking into the fathomless eyes of the old woman, Beverly said softly, “It is very important that I find her. The life of someone I love…someone we both love is in the balance.” The old woman’s eye’s softened and she lowered her head, shocking Beverly by muttering softly, “Jean-Luc Picard.” Beverly almost stumbled backwards. The old woman looked up into her eyes and smiled sadly. “Yes, Cheryl McFadden, I know about Jean-Luc Picard.” Recovering slightly, the rattled Doctor gathered her wits and summoned a steady voice. “What do you know?” Beckoning Beverly to an overstuffed sofa, the old woman moved some plants to allow them both to sit. Once settled, she sighed and stared at her wizened hands. “The death of Jean-Luc Picard destroyed all that Beverly was. All her hopes…dreams, her faith in humanity died with him. In its place came bitterness and a thirst for revenge, the strength of which I’ve never witnessed before. She became utterly consumed with vengeance…but her madness blinded her to the one truth she could never accept. The one truth that might have set her free and eased her troubled soul.” The old woman looked beseechingly into Beverly’s eyes and the Doctor found herself whispering, “What was it?” With a breathy sigh, the old woman shook her head. “That what happened to Jean-Luc was her fault.” A wave of crushing guilt surged through Beverly and she briefly closed her eyes, trying to quell it. The old woman went on, seeming to relish in the opportunity to unburden herself. “Beverly told me about their relationship on the Enterprise and how terribly sad it had made Jean-Luc. She described his efforts to try and initiate a romantic relationship and how she spurned him, how she caused him immeasurable pain and how eventually it tore them apart. She was estranged from him for some months and she ignored how despondent the situation had made him. She was angry with him, she couldn’t…or wouldn’t see that what he had wanted was so much better…so much more true to the way she actually felt about him, but she refused to admit to that. She would rather hide, hide from him and herself. “Then she accepted a mission and left the Enterprise. Having been briefed, she refused to take the mission, risking a court martial and demotion, but she stuck to her guns and eventually settled for a change of posting and agreed to help section 31 with some clandestine research, provided she could keep her whereabouts secret. She found her time away from the Enterprise…and Jean-Luc, to be a relief and, over a period of time, managed to convince herself it would be better for both of them if she severed all contact with the man. She even managed to delude herself into believing that Jean-Luc would be better off without her in his life, that he would somehow prosper in her absence. She took a posting on a distant world and eschewed all efforts from anyone who tried to contact her. Over time she just faded from everyone’s memory…except Jean-Luc. He kept trying to find her, without success. She did keep tabs on him, however. She was aware when he resigned his captaincy and followed his new career as an Ambassador, but when she found he’d been murdered a part of her died and what emerged from her grief was a different Beverly. She became obsessed with finding his killer. Of course her frequent unauthorised absences from her work soon became a problem and she was brought up on charges. Her response was to resign from Starfleet. She hired a runabout and left everything she’d ever known. For three months she travelled the quadrant, following leads, questioning people until she became certain of whom she sought. “She tracked her prey to a small world in the Heloran sector. Utilising her Starfleet training, she abducted the suspect and took her to a planet designated 668K where, with the aid of a phaser, she tortured the woman until she confessed to Jean-Luc’s murder. The woman was a Keloran, named Loran. “Once Beverly had the confession, she killed the woman and left her remains to rot.” The old woman seemed to need a rest, leaving Beverly to ask breathlessly, “How do you know all of this?” Smiling sadly, the old woman sighed. “Because I was there.” The two women sat in silence for a few minutes before the old woman sat back, her pale blue eyes watering. “I first met Beverly when she was working for section 31. You were amazed that I should exist…that a human/Deltan mix was untenable? I have Beverly to thank for my being.” Beverly shook her head in confusion. “But you said you were one hundred and eighty seven years old.” The old woman chuckled. “I did and I am.” “Then how…?” The old woman closed her eyes and sighed. “For one hundred and eighty five of those years I existed in a state of flux…neither solid nor gaseous. Section 31 had been working diligently for over two hundred years, trying to find a way of allowing corporeal beings to phase into a state of flux, thereby permitting them easier access to alternate universes. One of the things they discovered was that hybrids stand a greater chance of success than full bloods…of any species. They experimented with many mixtures and found a human/Deltan mix was the most sustainable. “I was created by invitro fertilisation and incubated in a simulated uterus. I never knew the donors whose genetic material was used to create me and, as the experiments on my being began when I was eleven months old, I was never permitted to take corporeal form once my gestation was complete. That was until Beverly discovered my existence during the course of her research. Once she found how long I had been kept in flux, she insisted I be allowed to form into a corporeal being. That occurred on Stardate 4367.28. I consider that date my birth date. I was put under Beverly’s care and we very quickly became inseparable. When she resigned, I insisted on my rights as a Federation citizen and left with her, having undergone a memory wipe, which…” She chuckled mischievously, “Failed miserably!” She sighed again and smiled in a kindly fashion. “Which brings us to you….Cheryl…or should I call you…Beverly?” Alarmed and shocked, Beverly swallowed and said weakly, “I beg your pardon?” The old woman smiled again and tapped her nose. “You are forgetting the phenomenal sense of smell the Deltans possess. I knew who you were the minute I opened the door. You may have altered your appearance significantly, but you are Beverly Crusher, I would bet my life on it.” Her mind racing to try and make sense of what she’d been told, Beverly asked the first thing that came to mind. “What do you intend to do?” The old woman’s almost non-existent eyebrows rose in surprise. “With you?” Beverly nodded. “Yes.” A kind smile appeared. “Why nothing my dear, except to help you. You are here to make amends…to set things right?” Nodded apprehensively, Beverly said softly, “That is my intention.” The old woman nodded with determination. “Then I will do whatever I can to help you.” Relaxing slightly, Beverly sat back and rubbed her face. She took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds then let it out slowly. Looking into the old woman’s eyes, she said quietly, “Where can I find her?” Bending slightly, the old woman patted Beverly’s knee. “Give me five minutes.” She got slowly to her feet, leaving Beverly to sit and think. When the old woman came back, she was carrying a PADD. She sat next to Beverly and offered the device, but before Beverly could take it, the old woman speared her with an uncompromising look. “I give you this information on one condition.” Returned her gaze steadily, Beverly said softly, “And that is?” “That you let me know what happens. Beverly Crusher means a great deal to me and if this is going to end as I think it will, I feel I have a right to know.” Beverly sat in silence for a few seconds, considering the request. Eventually she nodded, but her gaze was troubled. “I will do as you ask, but if you think this is going to end badly, why are you helping me?” The old woman sighed and dropped her eyes. “Because I think Beverly’s death is the only thing that is going to stop her…and bring her peace.” Beverly nodded, guilt once again surging through her. She took the PADD and stood. “Well thank you, I will leave you now, but before I go…what is your name?” The old woman chuckled, waving one gnarled hand. “For over one hundred and eighty years I had no name, just a number, but Beverly named me. My name is Isabelle.” Beverly smiled. “A lovely name.” She held up the PADD. “Thank you, Isabelle.” Beverly left the old woman’s quarters and made her way back to her own. There she locked her door and sat in the living area, staring at the PADD and wishing she were back on the Enterprise. It was with great reluctance that she activated the device. An hour later, Beverly was back in her shuttle, plotting a course that would take her out of Federation space and into the unknown. Her journey was not too long, seven weeks at high warp and she found that she could manage the boredom by reading, exercising and talking to the computer, so it was with some pleasant surprise that early one morning the computer woke her to say, “Doctor McFadden, we are entering the designated system. I am reducing speed to full impulse.” Sitting up and knuckling her eyes, Beverly said sleepily, “Thank you. Time to the planet?” “Fifty-five point six minutes.” With a small grumble, Beverly slid out of the bed. “Just enough time for a shower and breakfast.” Over her morning meal, Beverly once again read the information on the PADD. After resigning from Starfleet, Beverly had pooled her resources and left Federation space to set up a laboratory on a distant planet. It had no name or designation that she knew of, so she called it Destiny. It had taken almost three months to set up her lab and another month to begin her research, but she was well on the way to producing a deadly biological weapon that would be fatal to the Kelorans. What she didn’t know was that the Federation and the Kelorans had recently made overtures of peace and a delegation of Kelorans were on Earth, hammering out a treaty. The shuttle took up an orbit around Destiny as Beverly used the scanners and sensors to try and locate the facility. She was lucky. With the enhanced technology of the shuttle, she found what she was looking for in under two minutes. She sat back and sighed. “So, there you are.” She was about to leave the cockpit when a transmission from the surface reached her. “Vessel in orbit, identify yourself.” Frowning, Beverly considered her options, then shrugged. “My name is Doctor Cheryl McFadden. I come with a message for Doctor Beverly Crusher, from Isabelle.” The voice, so familiar, responded with an edge to it. “Is she all right?” Beverly knew she had to play this right. “Yes…but she specifically wanted me to see you face to face.” “That is not possible.” With a sigh, Beverly pinched the bridge of her nose. “That may be so, but my instructions were very clear. Isabelle said…” “I don’t care what she said; no one may beam down to my facility.” Frowning and chewing her lower lip, Beverly gave some thought to her dilemma. “Well, what about somewhere else? Would you consider coming up to my vessel?” “No.” “All right, how about somewhere else near your facility?” There was a momentary silence before Beverly heard a very tentative reply. “Well…all right, I will send coordinates.” “Acknowledged.” But before any information came through, Beverly received a warning. “You will come alone and unarmed.” With a wry smile, Beverly nodded. “Understood.” The necessary information soon came through and Beverly rose to go aft to the transporter pad. As she prepared to beam down, she thought to herself, “So…now I will see.” Having heard so much about her future self, Beverly wasn’t sure what to expect when she rematerialised on the surface, but the business end of a type five phaser pointed at her head wasn’t high on her list. She slowly raised her hands and stood still while the older woman circled her with a scanner. It wasn’t until she said, “You seem to be unarmed”, That Beverly lowered her hands. While the older Beverly studied the readouts on her scanner, Beverly took the opportunity to have a good look at herself. Obviously several years older, that didn’t account for the streaks of grey in her dull hair, or the lines that had appeared on her face. Weight loss had given the woman a gaunt image and her once straight shoulders were stooped. The younger Beverly’s eyes settled on the older woman’s hands and she almost winced. They were red and chapped and gnarled, no longer capable of the delicate surgery they once did with ease. Beverly’s eyes travelled up, only to find the older woman was looking at her with deep suspicion. Her brusque question left nothing to the imagination. “What is Isabelle’s message?” Beverly’s eyes hardened and she made sure her voice was steady. “Stop what you are doing and return to Federation space.” With a snort, the older Beverly gestured with the phaser. “That’s it? Well, you’ve delivered your message, now you can leave.” Shaking her head, Beverly took a step closer to the older woman. “Isabelle is very worried about you.” The sound of the power setting being raised reached Beverly’s ears. The older Beverly’s eyes showed nothing but madness. “She always was a worrier. Now, are you going to leave, or am I going to vaporise you?” Showing boldness she didn’t know she possessed, Beverly said quietly, “Like you did to Loran?” Anger flashed across the older woman’s eyes. “She got what she deserved!” Shaking her head slowly, Beverly said softly, “No one deserves to be tortured then killed and left to rot.” The sudden screech made Beverly flinch. “She killed Jean-Luc!” Steeling herself against the woman’s insanity, Beverly kept her tone soft. “Perhaps she did, but she should have answered for that in a court of law.” Now beyond reason, the older Beverly began to sob brokenly. “Do you know what she did to Jean-Luc? She tortured him! I only did to her what she did to him! It was an eye for an eye! She deserved what she got!” Beverly stepped a little closer and said quietly, “And now you would kill me. How many more, Beverly? How many more must die before you see what you have done?” The older Beverly suddenly snapped her mouth closed and glared. “What I have done? I haven’t done anything…yet.” Beverly moved closer still. “But you’re going to, aren’t you. You’re going to wipe out an entire species to try and ease your guilt.” In a broken whisper, the older Beverly managed, “What are you talking about? What guilt?” Beverly smiled sadly. “The guilt you can’t bear to admit to. The guilt that comes from knowing you caused Jean-Luc’s death.” Staggering backwards, the older Beverly shook her head. “No! Jean-Luc was getting reckless; he was taking all the dangerous missions…that’s how he came to cross swords with Loran. She killed him, not me!” Keeping her voice low and steady, Beverly was remorseless. “Why do you think he was being so reckless? Why do you think he ignored the warnings of friends and former shipmates and took on those dangerous missions? I can tell you, if you like, but you already know, don’t you.” The older Beverly suddenly raised the phaser and screeched, “Leave or die!” Knowing she could not be reasoned with, Beverly quickly tapped her comm. badge. “Computer, one to beam up!” As Beverly rematerialised on the shuttle, she took a large breath and ran her hands over her body. She wasn’t certain, but she got the distinct impression the phaser had been fired as she beamed up. If not for the fact that she had lost molecular cohesion at the time, she might well be dead. She went straight to the cockpit and monitored the older Beverly from orbit. For over an hour the older Beverly stayed where she was, at the beam down point. Beverly could only surmise she was taking time gaining control of herself again. Eventually she moved off and went back inside her facility. The scanner in Beverly’s pocket had taken some very detailed readings of the older woman and Beverly knew she was desperately in need of sleep. Deciding to take advantage of that, Beverly formed a plan to infiltrate the lab that very night. With only a few hours before the planet’s nightfall, the younger woman set about inputting instructions into the computer. Rather than beam down, Beverly landed the shuttle about two kilometres from the facility. Being a very modern craft, she was able to deploy camouflage that made the vessel absolutely invisible to the naked eye and well hidden from sensors and scanners. Dressed in black clothing and with her backpack over her shoulder, Beverly left the shuttle and set off into the thick foliage. She wasn’t surprised when her modified tricorder detected the presence of booby traps. Utilising the deactivator she’d been given, she moved cautiously closer until she came to the south wall of the building. There was a door, magnetically sealed and alarmed. It was the work of mere minutes to deactivate the alarm and override the seal. There was an exchange of atmosphere as the door opened and, perhaps too late, Beverly realised she might be dealing with a sealed environment, tainted with airborne particles. Having already breathed the new atmosphere, Beverly reasoned she may as well continue. Her hope was to destroy the facility after having made her older self see reason. To that end, she intended to set the charges before going in search of the older Beverly. She had only gone approximately ten metres into the building when a cold voice stopped her in her tracks. “You are persistent, aren’t you.” Turning slowly, Beverly raised her hands, knowing she had a phaser in a flat holster near the nape of her neck. “I wanted to talk to you. How did you know I was inside?” Waving the phaser towards a door, the older Beverly ushered Beverly into a new suite of rooms. Inside there was scientific equipment and several large sealed analysis cubicles. “My sensors detected your biological signal the instant you stepped inside.” The younger Beverly looked around and nodded. “You seem to be very well set up.” With a snort, the older woman gestured for Beverly to sit on a nearby stool. “It took everything I owned…and then some…to get all this…but I am close. I should have what I want within the week.” The younger Beverly sighed. “And then what? You go to Kelora, deploy your weapon and annihilate millions?” The coldness with which she answered sent a chill down Beverly’s spine. “Yes.” Keeping her voice soft and even, the younger Beverly said softly, “They don’t deserve it. The Keloran you hated is gone, why kill all the rest? It makes no sense.” Her faded blue eyes glassy with insanity, the older Beverly grinned, but it was more like a rictus, a parody of her usual lovely smile. “They are all the same, the Kelora. Who’s to say another one won’t decide to torture and kill another Federation Ambassador? They are a blight, a cancer in the universe and I intend to eliminate them.” Steeling herself for another mad outburst, Beverly said quietly, “You would kill them all to ease your guilt? Every Keloran must die because you can’t face what you’ve done?” Predictably, the older Beverly raised the phaser with a shaking hand. “I’ve already told you…Loran killed Jean-Luc! Not ME! I couldn’t have killed him…I…I loved him.” Nodding slowly, Beverly almost smiled. “Yes you did, but did you ever tell him? Did you ever give him any inkling of how you felt? Or did you hide and use him mercilessly. You did, didn’t you. You used him to satisfy your sexual needs, never once letting him show you how much he loved you. You knew though, didn’t you. You knew, you knew how much it was hurting him, how every time you left his quarters after making him fuck you, you all but stabbed him in the heart.” The phaser began to waver as tears welled in the older woman’s eyes. “How do you know all this?” With tears in her own eyes, Beverly’s lip trembled as she whispered, “Because I am you.” The older woman shook her head in disbelief. “No…” Beverly nodded. “Yes. I have been sent from the past to make you stop.” Still shaking her head, the older Beverly’s voice trembled. “But how...?” “The Department of Temporal Investigations.” The older woman sneered. “Not Section 31?” The younger Beverly shrugged. “They may have some involvement, I don’t know.” Seeming to rally, the older woman dragged herself upright and her grip on the phaser tightened. “It makes no difference. I will do what I have set out to do, regardless.” Younger Beverly’s eyes darkened. “You mustn’t! Can’t you see what you intend is unconscionable? What happened to your Hippocratic Oath? First and foremost, Beverly…Do no harm!” The woman screeched, “They killed Jean-Luc!” With her hands still raised, Beverly gripped the butt of her phaser. Keeping her voice steady she said softly, “No they didn’t, Beverly…you did.” With a scream of rage, the older Beverly lifted the phaser, spittle flying from her mouth as she screamed, “Fuck you! I don’t care who you are, I will kill you anyway!” The younger Beverly didn’t give her a chance to press the trigger. She whipped the phaser from its holster and fired. The older woman was hit in the chest. Younger Beverly knew by the setting that it was a lethal blow. Flung backwards, the older Beverly hit the wall and bounced off, coming to lie sprawled on the floor at younger Beverly’s feet, quite dead. The phaser in her numb hand fell and clattered onto the floor as she dropped it. Shocked out of her stupor, Beverly quickly went around the room, vaporising all the biological material she could find. She then set the charges throughout the facility, took one last look at the body, and then left, making the journey back to the shuttle with no trouble. Once inside she went to the cockpit and, after a moment’s hesitation, pressed the switch that would send the signal to the explosives to detonate. She then left the cockpit, staggering into the day area, where she collapsed in a chair, lowered her head into her hands and began to weep. It occurred to Beverly, as she made the journey back to her point of origin, that she should look in on Isabella and Helen, but such was her desperate need to get back to her own time that she eschewed her new friends, opting instead to sending subspace messages. It was a long trip, almost seven weeks and because she didn’t know the name of the planet she sought, she had to rely on the computer to get her there. She had found the computer to be a good companion, but where it came to her mission, it was reticent, to say the least, in offering information. But her enforced ignorance, coupled with her longish journey proved to be beneficial. It afforded her the time she needed to get what had happened into its proper perspective. Yes, she had killed and yes, she had, in effect, killed herself, but it had been necessary. If her older self had been allowed to live, millions would have died. That was simply not permissible. Had Beverly been able to reason with herself, make her see the insanity of what she intended, perhaps it would have ended differently, but the woman was too far gone. Overcome with hidden guilt and overwhelmed by crushing grief, the older Beverly had descended into madness, lost to all who had once known her. Yes, her death had been, in a way, inevitable. What Beverly had to do now, was get back to her time and repair what she had wrought with Jean-Luc. And so she spent the weeks of her journey coming to terms with what had happened and her part in it, eventually becoming impatient to get back to the Enterprise to right a terrible wrong. It was the old Admiral who greeted Beverly when she finally disembarked from the shuttle. He smiled his gentle smile, knowing by the look in her eyes that she had successfully completed her mission. That, however, didn’t mean she didn’t have to be debriefed. She endured eight very uncomfortable hours being very thoroughly grilled by the Admiral and his staff. It was with heartfelt relief that she was finally told to go to her assigned quarters for the evening, but she would only go once they told her she would be returned to her proper time the next morning. She slept little that night and was showered and dressed when the mysterious woman she had previously encountered came to her quarters to escort her to the transporter. Once again she was greeted by the elderly Admiral. He took her hand and smiled. “I will be seeing you again…soon.” Beverly returned the smile and asked, “How much time will have passed?” The old man shrugged. “I cannot be sure; you’d better ask that question again once you’re back where you belong.” In silence, Beverly nodded and lay down on the bed. Before the hypo was administered, the Admiral said softly, “You have performed a great service, Doctor. We thank you…we know it must have been very difficult.” Before Beverly could respond, the hypo was pressed against her neck and everything melted away. When she next opened her eyes, the Bolian Captain took her hand, gently encouraging her to rise. Feeling a little groggy, Beverly got up from the bed and immediately noticed there were more people in the room. Standing to one side was the old Admiral and another woman. As the Bolian Captain kept a steadying hand on Beverly’s arm, the Admiral stepped forward and held out his hand. “Welcome back, Doctor Crusher.” Beverly smiled, but couldn’t keep the impatience out of her voice when she asked, “How soon can I return to the Enterprise?” The gathered officers shared an uncomfortable look and the Admiral sighed. “That may not be possible, Doctor.” Alarmed, Beverly snapped, “Why the hell not?” The Admiral dismissed the others with a look, took Beverly’s arm and led her in silence from the room. He said with a smile, “I take it you would like to be restored to your former self?” Beverly returned the smile and nodded, quelling her irritation. “Yes.” “Then come with me.” The procedure took some hours and it was a tired Beverly who met again with the Admiral. They travelled down some corridors and eventually entered the conference room Beverly remembered from her previous visit. She was ushered to a chair and waited while the old Admiral seated himself, but anger was beginning to surface, making her tone sharp. “You haven’t answered my question.” The Admiral frowned. “About what?” Keeping her voice even with difficulty, Beverly said firmly, “About me returning to the Enterprise.” His tone was patient and conciliatory. “Ah, that.” He sighed, his face falling as he shook his head. “There are some things you need to know.” Now clearly furious, Beverly barked, “Like what?” Admonishing her with a stony look, the Admiral calmed himself and sighed. “Ten months have passed, Doctor. Your position on the Enterprise has been very adequately filled by Doctor Selar; it would be unfair to ask her to take a demotion in position to allow you to return as CMO.” Thinking quickly, Beverly all but blurted, “Then I won’t go back as CMO, I will take a position as a staff Doctor.” The old man sighed again and Beverly got the distinct impression he was trying to shield her from something. She took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds before expelling it slowly. “What ever it is…just tell me.” The Admiral looked deeply into Beverly’s eyes and spoke very softly. “Captain Picard is engaged to another woman.” Shocked to her very core, all Beverly could do was whisper, “What?” With a deep sigh, the old man explained. “After you left, Captain Picard suffered a psychological breakdown of sorts. He was relieved of duty to take indefinite leave to recover at a mental health facility. While there he developed a relationship with his therapist. Once he was discharged and deemed fit for duty, he was reinstated as Captain of the Enterprise. After some weeks he requested the therapist be assigned to his ship where their relationship blossomed. He proposed to her five weeks ago.” Still whispering, Beverly asked, “Who is she?” Trying to ease her pain, the Admiral asked gently, “Does it matter?” Beverly lifted her head and said with firmness, “Yes, it does.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “She is a Vulcan psychiatrist named T’Krel.” With a frown, Beverly shook her head. “A Vulcan?” The Admiral nodded. “Yes.” They sat in silence for a few minutes before Beverly stood, gathering her ravelled thoughts and trying to salvage her dignity. “If it’s alright with you, Admiral, I would like to take some time off…I need to reassess my options.” He stood and offered a sympathetic smile. “Of course, Doctor, take as much time as you need.” As Beverly turned to leave, she hesitated and turned back. Lifting her chin defiantly, she said with an impassive voice, “I don’t want Captain Picard to know I am back, or anyone else, for that matter.” The old man bowed his head. “It will be as you wish, Doctor. We are in your debt.” Having left the room, Beverly was escorted from the building and taken by shuttle back to Starfleet Command in San Francisco. She stayed only six hours and tried to make sure no one saw her. She was there only long enough to organise passage to Caldos. T’Krel was satisfied with her position on the Enterprise. Being one of Deanna’s staff, she found the job of Counsellor on such a large ship to be quite gratifying, although being a Vulcan, she did not actually feel gratified, rather she felt nothing at all. But it was satisfying. She was finished for the day, it was late and she was on her way back to her fiancé’s quarters. She found her life mate to be intriguing for a human. His mind was highly analytical, he was honest and honourable and he was not held hostage by his emotions, at least not under normal situations. He had suffered a psychological breakdown, but even so, during his extensive therapy, he had regained control to the point where he completely clamped down on all of his emotions. It had taken T’Krel some time to get him to feel again. His proposal had come as a surprise, she was unaware he harboured romantic feelings for her. She was aware they had become remarkably close, both during his long therapy following his breakdown and later, when she had been assigned to his ship. Their sexual relationship was satisfying, that he was so accomplished was a pleasant surprise, but that too had been unexpected. Secretly, she was pleased he had the ability to surprise her. Her last mate had been rather…stolid…even for a Vulcan. His death had left T’Krel feeling somewhat…dislocated. It had taken many years for that feeling to dissipate, but she had never considered taking another mate, mostly because she was too engrossed with her work. She was fully aware of the reason behind the Captain’s breakdown and was also fully cognizant that deep down he still pined for his lost love, but he had come a long way, far enough to bury his grief and wish to go forward into the future with her as his new love. Love. What an interesting concept. From a human point of view, it was perhaps the most defining emotion of the human condition. A human without love was considered to be incomplete. But from a Vulcan point of view it was a nonsensical manifestation which did little but cloud the waters of perfect thought. She did not love Jean-Luc, nor would she ever, but she did care for him and found him suitable as a candidate for a long term relationship. When he had proposed marriage, she almost declined, but she knew two immutable things. One: a refusal would hurt him. Two: she would outlive him by decades. Weighing up these facts tipped the balance and she accepted. She was pleased to see he took her acceptance with grace and little emotion. Yes, he was suitable. The doors to his quarters sighed open and she entered to find the rooms in darkness. By the light of the pin pricks of starlight outside she saw him sitting in his favourite chair by the viewports, a tumbler of rich amber liquid in his right hand. In her customary silence she crossed the room and took her seat opposite him. His gaze never wavered from the stars but he smiled and said softly, “It’s late, you must be tired.” Adopting his soft tone, T’Krel agreed. “You are correct; it has been a long day.” His eyes finally moved to settle on her. “Would you like a drink?” She shook her head. “No, thank you.” He nodded and sipped, closing his eyes as he swallowed. She sensed his melancholy and tilted her head. “You are…grieving. Still.” He smiled, but it was a sad smile. “I have my moments. I know it is selfish of me, but sometimes…I just can’t help it.” T’Krel shrugged. “It is very human of you, Jean-Luc.” His smile grew. “So you approve?” “I neither approve nor disapprove. If you feel this way, you should express it. As long as you do not dwell on your…grief…then I believe it is acceptable to recognise it.” They sat in companionable silence for a while before Jean-Luc took a deep breath and tossed back the remainder of his drink. When he smiled, it was with warmth. “Have you eaten?” T’Krel shook her head. “No, I have not.” He rose, holding out his hand. “Neither have I. What’s say I get us some dinner? Perhaps you would like to shower?” Knowing she liked to shower before she went to bed, T’Krel offered a small smile and took his hand, coming to her feet. “That is acceptable…thank you.” To make him feel more comfortable, T’Krel was making an effort to be more…human. She used gestures and phrases that humans would and she knew he appreciated her kindness. They ate a nice meal, a mixture of human and Vulcan dishes, read for a while, then retired for the night. She knew when he caressed her face when he kissed her that he wanted sex. She also knew she did not need the emotional tie of romance and he seemed to accept this. He aroused her proficiently, bringing her to orgasm several times before he penetrated her, but even so, she tempered her responses, her true sexuality was too intense for any human to experience. She knew he craved some sort of emotional connection, but she was unable to provide it. To his credit, he never showed his pain as they had sex and in truth, their sexual life was satisfying, but T’Krel knew something was missing, something she was simply unable to find in herself. She allowed him to hold her afterwards, although what she wanted to do was get out of bed to go to the bathroom to clean herself, but she knew he needed this physical closeness, so she permitted it. He would soon sleep, allowing her to leave the bed without disturbing him. His mumbled comment, however, caught her by surprise. “We should set a date.” She frowned in the darkness. “For what?” She clearly heard the smile in his voice. “For the wedding.” “Is there a time constraint?” He sighed. “No, but it is customary.” She sighed. “I see. Well, I will be very busy for the next four months, and you have to negotiate the trade agreement with the Grizzellas, then the Enterprise will be returning to Earth for the upgrades.” Jean-Luc rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Well what about a small ceremony on Earth? Or would you prefer Vulcan?” She thought for a few seconds, the shook her head. “No, Earth will be sufficient. What is entailed?” “In the ceremony?” “Yes.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Human wedding ceremonies can be very elaborate, or very simple. It depends on what the couple want.” T’Krel gave a short nod. “I see. Is there a religious component?” Jean-Luc idly scratched his cheek. “Again, it depends on the couple. The ceremony can be religious or secular or both.” “What is you preference?” He sighed. “To be honest, a small, secular ceremony with as few people as possible would suit me, but if you wish for something more elaborate…” She shook her head. “No, I think something simple will suffice. Why does there have to be other people there?” Jean-Luc smiled. “Because there has to be an official to conduct the ceremony and at least two witnesses.” T’Krel nodded. “Ah, yes, I believe I am aware of that. The…Best Man and the…?” “Maid of Honour.” “Yes, the Maid of Honour. Who chooses these people?” Jean-Luc chuckled. “The male, known as the Groom, chooses the Best Man and the female, known as the Bride, chooses the Maid of Honour. Traditionally, one chooses one’s best friend to fulfil the duties.” T’Krel sighed. “I have no…best friend.” Raising himself up on one elbow, Jean-Luc frowned down at his fiancée. “Do you not have one special female friend? A childhood companion or a colleague perhaps?” She shook her head. “No.” In exasperation, Jean-Luc ran his fingers over his lower lip. “Well, what about here on the Enterprise? Is there no one you work with that you feel could do the job?” There were several seconds of silence before T’Krel said quietly, “Commander Troi.” Jean-Luc closed his eyes and flopped back onto the mattress. He sighed. “That may not be a good idea.” Confused, both by his reaction and by his comment, T’Krel shook her head. “Why?” Instead of answering her, Jean-Luc pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Forget it. Let me talk with her first. All right?” Still confused, T’Krel let it go. She waited until Jean-Luc gently kissed her and fell asleep, before she left the bed to go to the bathroom. It was the end of the day shift and Deanna was looking forward to knocking off. She planned a long bath, a light meal and an early night. She was just entering the last of her notes into the computer when she became aware of someone at her door…and not just anybody, it was the Captain. Curiosity warred with irritation as she composed herself and waited for the door to chime. She made sure her voice was light as she bade her caller to enter. “Hello, Captain, what brings you here?” Knowing his Counsellor was less than pleased with him, Jean-Luc appreciated her making the effort to be civil. “Hello, Counsellor…I was wondering if I might have a word with you?” The only outward sign of Deanna’s tension was a slight tightening of her jaw. “Of course, Sir. How can I help?” Silently asking permission to sit and receiving a nod of acceptance, Jean-Luc made himself as comfortable as he could under the circumstances and summoned a smile, which didn’t reach his eyes. “You are aware that T’Krel and I are to be married.” Deanna nodded, her obsidian eyes glittering. “Yes, Sir.” Unfortunately she couldn’t keep her disapproval from her voice. Jean-Luc sighed and shook his head. “You still can’t accept my relationship with her.” Schooling her features, Deanna struggled to maintain a professional demeanour. “It isn’t a matter of acceptance, Captain. It is more like my wanting what’s best for you.” Jean-Luc’s eyes darkened and his voice became deceptively soft. “And you think my relationship with T’Krel isn’t what’s best for me.” Holding his gaze boldly, Deanna said softly, “No, Sir, I do not.” Anger permeated Jean-Luc’s being, but he had known Deanna a very long time…known her and trusted her. He let out a long breath and tried to calm himself. “Why?” Exasperated, Deanna clasped her hands and lowered her head. “We’ve been over this, Sir.” Jean-Luc was beginning to struggle to keep his voice down. “And I have already told you, T’Krel and I did not form our current relationship until she was assigned to this ship! And she is no longer my therapist.” Deanna lifted her head and speared Jean-Luc with an uncompromising look. “But you admit you were attracted to her while she was your therapist.” Sitting back in his chair, Jean-Luc attempted a nonchalant air. “You know I was.” With a snort of irritation, Deanna sat back and crossed her legs. “And you can’t see any problem with that?” “No.” Suddenly uncrossing her legs and sitting forward, Deanna said harshly, “And you don’t think it’s significant that you chose for a mate a woman incapable of showing you love and affection, especially after what happened between you and Beverly?” Immediately on his feet and with his hands fisted by his sides, an outraged Captain shouted, “How dare you!” Keeping calm and trying her best to remain unintimidated, Deanna looked up and said softly, “I dare because I know what you went through. Captain, your grief and heartache after Beverly disappeared were so severe you suffered a psychological breakdown so profound that you were confined to a medical facility for intensive therapy! Now I admit you have made a remarkable recovery and, under different circumstances I would applaud your efforts to get on with your life, but in choosing T’Krel you have made a grave error in judgement.” Jean-Luc paced across the room twice before he calmed himself enough to retake his seat. He took a steadying breath and said very softly, “I love her.” Deanna bowed her head, shaking it slowly. “You may think so, Sir, but I doubt you really do. You had a relationship with Beverly that nearly destroyed you. It was cold and unfeeling, the exact opposite of what you desired and when it ended you were left feeling bereft. Then, after months of acrimony and unresolved issues, Beverly disappeared, never to return and you fell apart. Now, almost a year later you have recovered enough to resume your captaincy and to go forward with your life, even to the point of looking for a life partner…but Captain, look carefully at whom you’ve chosen. A Vulcan. A woman of a species who pride themselves on their lack of emotions! She is by her very nature, cold and unfeeling. Does that remind you of anyone?” His dark eyes glittering, Jean-Luc barely kept control of himself. “You are accusing me of deliberately choosing a mate to what…punish myself?” Deanna looked into his eyes with deep compassion. “You still grieve, don’t you.” Some of the tension left the man and his eyes showed his fathomless sadness. He whispered, “Yes.” Deanna left her seat to kneel at his knees. Taking his hands she tried to see under his lowered brow. “It’s alright to grieve, Captain, but you need to see the truth of what you have done.” He looked up and there were tears in his eyes. “You don’t think we can be happy?” With a sad sigh, Deanna shook her head. “No. Maybe for a few years, perhaps, but ultimately your enduring love for Beverly will eat away any affection you now feel for T’Krel.” Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Jean-Luc gathered himself and wiped away his tears. He straightened his shoulders and looked down at the petite woman. “I have to try, Deanna.” Her own eyes welling with unshed tears, all Deanna could do was nod sadly. Jean-Luc cleared his throat and summoned a wan smile. In a lighter tone he said softly, “T’Krel would like you to be her Maid of Honour.” As Deanna smiled, two tears slipped down her cheeks. “It would be a privilege. Who will be your Best man?” “I thought I’d ask Will.” Her smile genuine, Deanna nodded. “He’ll be very pleased.” Jean-Luc stood and turned to the door, but before it could open, he turned back and said softly, “I have to try, Deanna. The pain is slowly killing me.” Deanna stood and nodded. “I know, Captain, I know.” He left and as the doors closed, Deanna sat down and tried not to sob. To recover himself after his visit to Deanna, Jean-Luc went to the Arboretum. He knew if he returned to his quarters upset, T’Krel would insist on knowing why and he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. So he found a seat in the Arboretum and quietly composed himself. It was an hour before he felt he could return to his home. He was greeted by his fiancée and she allowed him to kiss her. They shared an aperitif, then sat down to their dinner. Jean-Luc was pensive, not ignored by the woman. “You are troubled.” Offering a small smile, Jean-Luc sighed and laid down his cutlery. He gave T’Krel a long look and frowned. “Do you see our relationship being a problem, seeing as how you were my therapist?” With typical Vulcan bluntness, T’Krel replied. “No. If I did I would not have allowed it.” Unconvinced, Jean-Luc shook his head. “But it does fly in the face of standard patient/therapist protocols.” She looked up and frowned. “Only if we had become involved while you were still my patient.” Jean-Luc sat back, a wry smile in place. “Did you know I was attracted to you while I was your patient?” Sighing, T’Krel put down her cutlery and gave Jean-Luc an uncompromising look. “You know I was not aware of it.” She lifted one perfect eyebrow. “But why are we discussing this? We have already gone over this at some length.” Taking the time to wipe his mouth with his serviette, Jean-Luc gathered his thoughts. “I spoke with Counsellor Troi this evening.” T’Krel offered little reaction. “And she still disapproves of our relationship.” Rather than tell her the complete truth, Jean-Luc merely said, “Yes.” T’Krel sighed. “That is unfortunate.” With a nod, Jean-Luc managed a smile. “Yes it is, but she did agree to be your Maid of Honour.” The Vulcan frowned. “That is illogical.” Chuckling, Jean-Luc sat back and shook his head. “Yes, it is.” T’Krel gave Jean-Luc a hard look, and then resumed eating. Beverly only spent two weeks on Caldos. Not even her old friend, Governor Maturin knew she was on the planet. She had herself beamed into her late Grandmother’s cottage from the transport ship that had brought her and spent the fortnight holed up in its rustic interior. She didn’t even venture out into the garden. The tangle of herbs and other medicinal plants grew in massed profusion, desperately needing a loving hand to weed and prune, but Beverly only peered at them through the window. After the first three days she roused herself and went on a cleaning spree. She scrubbed, dusted and polished until the little cottage gleamed. Then a sort of torpor set in and she took to her Grandmother’s chair and sat in complete silence, stirring only in the evening to climb the stairs to bed. This lethargy lasted almost eight days before it slowly lifted and she began to be able to once again think. “I have to get over this. He’s moved on with his life, I should do the same.” Moving to the kitchen, she put the kettle on. While it heated, Beverly sat at the kitchen table and considered her options. “Well, I’m a Doctor, I can work any where I want. The thing is…do I want to remain in Starfleet?” She sighed and rose slowly to fill the teapot with boiling water. While the tea brewed she sighed, getting out a cup and some milk. It wasn’t until she poured the brew that she realised it was Earl Grey. Stifling a cry of anguish, she tossed the liquid down the sink and then lifted her hands to her face. “I can’t do this…I miss him…I want him…” She found a seat and plonked down, tears streaming down her face. Through her sobs she wailed, “What am I going to do without him?” A sudden realisation settled over her. She lifted her head and gasped. “Oh God…this is how it must have started with the other Beverly. She couldn’t handle it and went mad. Is that what’s going to happen to me?” She gave it some thought and shook her head. “No! Her Jean-Luc was dead, mine is still alive.” She slapped her hand down on the table. “So do I fight for him or not?” She stood and stalked into the living room. Glaring at the embers in the fire, she stooped, grabbed a poker and savagely shoved at the embers, bringing them to life. She then put some wood on the fire and watched dispassionately as the flames took hold. As she came to her decision, she gritted her teeth. “No, I won’t fight for you Jean-Luc. You have moved on, I shall do the same, but it won’t be with Starfleet. This has to be a clean break; I never want to see you again. It would be too painful…for both of us.” With a decisive nod, Beverly went to the home’s computer and called up the visiting ship’s schedules. Within ten minutes she had booked passage to Gault. Her next chore was to tender her resignation. It wasn’t as painful as she thought it was going to be. As she pressed the send key she sat back and took a deep breath. “My new life begins today.” The months had passed relatively quickly. Jean-Luc had mediated the talks and the Enterprise was on her way to Earth. It was late in the ship’s night and Jean-Luc and T’Krel had just made love. As usual, T’Krel was permitting Jean-Luc to hold her afterwards but Jean-Luc felt her barely concealed tension. He sighed, let her go and rolled onto his back. In a rough grumble he muttered, “You don’t like me to hold you afterwards.” T’Krel had no wish to hurt her partner, but she wouldn’t lie to him. “It is not what I prefer.” He sighed again. “Why didn’t you say something?” Staring up at the ceiling, T’Krel had to think about it before she answered. “I did not wish to hurt your feelings.” There was silence between them for a little while before Jean-Luc asked quietly, “How many other things have you kept hidden to spare my feelings?” She turned to face him in the darkness and said softly, “What does it matter?” He rose up on his elbow. “It matters to me. I want our relationship to be based on honesty, not denials or hidden agendas.” T’Krel sighed. “I am not denying anything, nor do I have any hidden agendas. The reason I have been…less than forthcoming, is simply because of the inherent differences between us. You require a modicum of physical closeness. I do not, however that does not mean I can’t allow you what you need. To do otherwise would be both selfish and cruel.” Jean-Luc lay back down and sighed. “You always seem to be holding back…like you are hiding something from me when we’re having sex.” T’Krel sighed. “You are correct, I am holding back. Vulcan sexuality is far too intense to be experienced by a human, even one as proficient in sexual matters as you.” Jean-Luc frowned. He’d just been complimented, but he felt like he’d been insulted. He turned his head and when he spoke, he tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” T’Krel shook her head. “You would be unable to judge anything if I unleashed my inner sexuality.” His hurt gave way to curiosity. “How so?” Sitting up, T’Krel went to leave the bed, but Jean-Luc gently grasped her arm. “I want to know.” She shook her head. “That is not possible. For you to find out what it is like would put you in danger. I will not permit that.” He let her go and, as she exited the bed, he followed her. “You said you have no hidden agendas. What about your sexuality? How long were you going to hide that from me?” She detected the slight anger in his voice and stopped, just inside the bathroom door. “I was not hiding it from you, Jean-Luc. I deliberately held it at bay to protect you. There is a difference.” Not convinced, Jean-Luc shook his head. “When two people who care about each other make love, it is supposed to be with equality and honesty, not with one hiding from the other. I don’t know about you, T’Krel, but I am at my most vulnerable, both physically and emotionally when I make love. I would hope you felt the same, that you trusted me as I trust you.” The Vulcan sighed and lowered her head. “It is that trust that I wish to preserve, Jean-Luc. What would you think of me if I injured you? How would that equate to honesty and equality? Please believe me; Vulcan sexuality is too intense for humans.” She entered the shower, leaving Jean-Luc to mull over her words. Some minutes later she re entered the bedroom to find him sitting up in bed, the side light on. His eyes followed her naked body as she crossed the room and got into the bed. She was beautiful. Lean and graceful with ample breasts, he found her very attractive. She knew he was watching her and she sighed. “You are not going to give up on this, are you?” He shook his head, but offered a small smile. “No.” She sighed. Jean-Luc took her hand and said quietly, “I want to experience what you feel.” She frowned. “That is illogical; you cannot experience what I feel.” His smile grew. “Not literally, no, but I want to experience what your full sexuality is like. I want to see…and feel…for myself.” T’Krel looked long and hard into his dark hazel eyes and eventually sighed. “You realise you are putting yourself in danger?” His smile became a grin. “You have my permission to call Sick Bay if you need to.” She frowned. “It won’t be for me, it will be for you.” He shrugged. “So be it.” “And when did you envisage this taking place?” He lifted a hand and gently caressed her breast. “What about now?” Surprise registered in her dark eyes. “You are…capable?” He leaned to her and softly nuzzled her neck, whispering, “If I receive enough…stimulation, then yes, I think I can…rise to the occasion.” A human woman may have laughed. T’Krel merely nodded. She turned to him, her eyes smoky. “Then let us begin.” At first Jean-Luc noticed nothing out of the usual. T’Krel was attentive and skilful at arousing him, but as time passed and he spent more and more time arousing her, he noticed that her skin was becoming hot; in fact when he pushed his fingers inside her he almost winced. He was suckling her nipple as he used his fingers inside her when she suddenly arched up from the bed and grabbed his wrist. As she rolled him over, the bones in his wrist broke, but before he could register the pain she had impaled herself on him. He cried out as the searing heat enveloped his penis. Her grip settled on his shoulders and she squeezed mercilessly as she rode him. He tried to keep up with her, grabbing her hips and pushing up into her as hard and as fast as he could, but she was oblivious. She leaned forward, suddenly pressing his shoulders down into the mattress with such force that she separated his collar bones. He cried out again but her grip only increased. Internally her vagina clamped down on him, each time she slid up his shaft it almost tore his penis from its root. Helpless and lost Jean-Luc came in a frantic wave of pain and ecstasy, but T’Krel wasn’t aware of his climax. Gripping him ferociously inside and out she rode him, her head craned back as a low scream began to emerge from her throat. Overwhelmed with pain and sensation, all Jean-Luc could do was howl, his hands gripping her and trying to slow her down, but T’Krel was lost in her ecstasy. Suddenly her grips increased to unbearable proportions and she came, her greenish tinged skin almost glowing with a lustre Jean-Luc had never seen before. There was an incredible pressure on his penis and, even though it was by now semi flaccid, he felt the head tear. He cried out and tried to lift T’Krel from him, but her grips were too strong. Wave after wave of pulsations swept through her body, a long continuous scream deafening him. He lost consciousness. His next recollection was the soft voice of a man, whose voice he didn’t recognise. He cracked his eyes open and realised he was in pain. He tried to say something, but all that came out was a low groan. The bed dipped as someone pressed a hypo against his neck. He tensed, but the hiss of the device heralded the relief of his pain. He opened his eyes and frowned. T’Krel was sitting next to him on the bed and there was a man with a tricorder scanning him. Jean-Luc raised an enquiring eyebrow and T’Krel said softly, “This is Doctor D’Arcy. He is treating your injuries, but you will have to present to Sick Bay for further treatment.” Jean-Luc nodded, then turned his attention to the Doctor, saying huskily, “What is the damage?” The Captain noted that the young man was a little pale. “You have a broken right wrist, both collar bones have been separated from your shoulder joints and you have two tears to the glans of your penis. Also there is damage to the muscles at the base of your penis.” The Doctor could tell by his CO’s stoic look that privacy was very important. He cleared his throat and offered a small nod. “I will be very discreet, Captain. I can repair some of these injuries here, but you do require extensive regen therapy in Sick Bay.” Summoning his voice, Jean-Luc was annoyed to find it gravelly. “Fine. Will tomorrow be all right?” The medic smiled wanly. “Yes, Captain, although some of your injuries will be…uncomfortable during the rest of the night. I have given you an analgesic, but it will need to be repeated in six hours.” T’Krel offered, “If you leave a hypospray here, I can administer it.” Shaking his head, D’Arcy frowned. “That is not really permissible, Sir.” Jean-Luc tried to sit up and failed. Taking a deep breath he looked the Doctor in the eyes. “You said discretion was assured. Surely you can see by allowing Lieutenant T’Krel to administer the pain killer, you are maintaining that discretion.” Somewhat intimidated by his Captain, D’Arcy relented. He sighed and nodded. “Very well, Captain.” He turned to T’Krel. “No more than one dose between the hours of oh five hundred and when he reports to Sick Bay at oh eight hundred.” T’Krel bowed her head. “As you wish, Doctor.” The young man stood and risked his Captain’s displeasure by saying with a glint in his eye, “No more sex…for tonight.” Both Jean-Luc and T’Krel remained silent until he left. Jean-Luc made himself comfortable in the bed and watched as his fiancée took off her robe and joined him. She sighed and looked deeply into his eyes. “I apologise for injuring you, Jean-Luc.” He shrugged. “I wanted to find out what it was like. Now I know.” She smiled and inside Jean-Luc sighed. As T’Krel settled down to sleep, Jean-Luc looked at the ceiling and thought, “I think I prefer human sexuality.” He muttered, “Lights out.” But as he was drifting off, a stray thought intervened. “I wish her eyes were blue.” On her way to Gault, Beverly had more time to think. Ensconced in her cabin, the red head mulled over her situation, silently cursing her misfortune. “Why has this time line diverged so differently? He was supposed to pine, but my return would have solved that. My God…we could have been happy by now!” She flung her shoe across the room, then stared balefully at its partner. Sighing, she shook her head and went to her monitor. “Computer, this is Doctor Beverly Crusher. I want to talk to Doctor Marcus Key. He can be found at the Gault medical facility.” “There will be a delay of twenty eight minutes.” “Acknowledged. Crusher out.” Casting a leery eye around her quarters, Beverly decided to go to the commissary to get a cup of coffee. She had only just entered the large room when a tall, blonde man noticed her. With a wink directed at his grinning colleagues, he sauntered over to the Doctor and introduced himself. “Stan Marriott.” He stuck out his hand, causing Beverly to glare at him. Shooting an incredulous look back at his mates, Stan tried again. “I’ve not seen you before. Would you like to join me for a drink?” Turning her most icy look at the cocky man, Beverly enunciated very clearly. “No. Now leave me alone.” The foolish man seemed to be oblivious. “Oh come on, you don’t mean that. A good looking woman like you needs company.” Her desire to leave was becoming urgent. She went to brush by the man when he grabbed at her arm. “Hey, don’t go gorgeous, I can show you a good time.” Years of Worf’s Mok’bara classes had honed Beverly reactions to a knife’s edge. She dropped the cup she was carrying and, in a blur of liquid motion, gripped and snapped the man’s right arm. He screeched in pain as Beverly stood over him, saying softly, “Listen to me, you Neanderthal. Not all women like to be accosted by hulking brutes like you. I told you to leave me alone; you should have listened to me.” She stepped over the writhing man and left the room. Twenty minutes passed before her door chime sounded. She got up from her desk and opened the door, schooling her features when confronted by the ship’s Captain. His light green eyes glittered as he offered a small bow. “Doctor Crusher, may I come in?” Knowing she couldn’t really refuse, Beverly stepped back and gestured him to enter. As he passed her, she bowed her head and said softly, “I take it this visit is about what happened in the commissary.” The rotund man turned to face her, his visage grave. “It is.” Beverly stood to her full height, determined not to back down. “I was provoked.” The Captain slowly nodded. “So the witnesses have corroborated. However I deplore violence, Doctor…couldn’t you have found another way to…dissuade your suitor?” Keeping her voice moderate with an effort, Beverly shook her head. “He wasn’t my suitor, Captain. He was a chauvinistic idiot who wouldn’t take no for an answer.” The Captain sighed, his face softening. “I do understand what you are saying, Doctor, but it is a little more complicated than a simple matter of bad manners. Stanley Marriott is Francis Marriott’s son.” Beverly shrugged. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” “It should. Francis Marriott owns a whole fleet of ships, this one included.” Beverly’s blue eyes began to glitter. “Are you suggesting I should have tolerated that idiot’s behaviour just because his father owns this ship?” The Captain shook his head, raising both hands. “Of course not! But you must see my dilemma. I have a very important man with a broken arm. I have to answer for that.” With a frown, Beverly asked, “Why do you have to answer for it? What happened was between me and him.” Smiling wryly, the Captain sighed. “I am employed by Francis Marriott.” Beverly’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.” “So you see my problem.” “Yes.” Beverly thought for a few moments before smiling. “Would you like me to apologise to Stan?” Relief washed over the Captain’s face. “That would be wonderful.” Beverly smiled. “Think nothing of it. Where is he now?” “In his quarters.” With a decisive nod, Beverly’s eyes twinkled. “Well, I have something I have to do now, but it will only take a few minutes. I will go and see him immediately afterwards.” The Captain offered a small bow. “Thank you, Doctor Crusher; I am in your debt.” He left and Beverly sighed. She went back to her terminal to see the light flashing. Activating the unit, she smiled at the face she saw. “Hello Marcus, sorry to keep you waiting.” The young man grinned in surprise. “Beverly! You’re a sight for sore eyes. How the hell are you?” She grinned back. “I’m fine…you?” “Couldn’t be better. What can I do for you?” Beverly smile softened. “Want some help?” “Are you offering?” Her smile grew. “Yes.” “That would be wonderful. We’ve not had another Doctor since Doctor McFadden left. Can I tell Helen you’re on your way?” “Yes, I’ll be another week.” “I look forward to seeing you, Beverly, it’s been too long.” “You too, Marcus, Crusher out.” She sat back from the monitor and sighed. “Now…Stanley Marriott. Here’s hoping I can keep my temper under control.” Stanley Marriott knew who was at his door and deliberately refused to answer the chime until he was good and ready. To her credit, Beverly merely sighed as she waited, knowing this was more about his ego than anything else. Eventually the door whispered open and Stanley gave a petulant pout. “What do you want?” Looking pointedly at his arm, which was in a sling, Beverly managed to sound contrite. “I have come to apologise for breaking your arm.” Lifting his head to stare imperiously, the young man sniffed disdainfully. “And what if I refuse your apology?” Beverly shrugged, her patience beginning to wear precariously thin. She gave one long look and went to turn. “Then I will simply leave.” When he called out, there was a note of pleading in his voice. “Oh! Don’t go…I…I accept your apology…and I thank you for making it.” Looking at him over her shoulder, Beverly gave a cheeky smile. “Well it’s the least I can do…although I do believe you got what you deserved.” Shock and anger played out across his face until he saw the smile on Beverly’s lips. He lowered his head and shook it. “You really are something.” He stepped back into his quarters, gesturing with his free arm. “Come in, have a drink with me.” Shaking her head ruefully, Beverly chuckled. “You don’t learn, do you.” Offering what he hoped was a rakish grin, Stan shrugged. “Well you can’t blame a man for trying…you’re a good looking woman.” Laughing outright, then holding up a placating hand, Beverly said with amusement, “And I’m old enough to be your mother.” She then sobered. “Look, Stan, no offence, but I would like to be left alone. Okay?” His disappointment was obvious, but he smiled graciously. “Okay, but if you change your mind, you know where I am.” Beverly gave a small bow and smiled. “Thank you.” She felt his eyes on her as she left and she felt a bit better for having apologised. She was quite used to men, young and old, making passes at her and up until now she had always ignored them, but it suddenly occurred to her that she should be happy she was still obviously attractive to the opposite sex. The only problem was…the only man she really wanted now seemed to be taken. She went back to her quarters and settled down to read. It took four days for Jean-Luc’s injuries to completely heal. Doctor D’Arcy had been true to his word and to the Captain’s knowledge, no one else on board was aware of the nature…or cause…of his injuries. T’Krel had been unusually quiet, even given she was reticent as a matter of habit and Jean-Luc was puzzled by it. One evening, after he’d been declared fit by the medics, Jean-Luc decided to ask what the problem was. “T’Krel, I have noticed you seem to have something on your mind. Would you like to talk about it?” The Vulcan looked into her fiancé’s eyes and gave a slow nod. “I believe I would.” She sat back and gathered her thoughts. “I am unsettled by what happened between us.” Jean-Luc frowned. “T’Krel, I asked for you to do what you did and you have already apologised for what eventuated.” She bowed her head. “That is true but I cannot help but be concerned for the future.” Moving closer, Jean-Luc shook his head. “I’m not sure I understand.” With a sigh, T’Krel clasped her hands in her lap. “Marriage is a life-long commitment, is it not?” Jean-Luc nodded. “Usually, yes, at least that is the usual intention.” T’Krel offered an uncharacteristic sigh. “Then it is that commitment that troubles me.” Alarmed, Jean-Luc muttered quietly, “Why?” “I am to assume that the union will be monogamous?” Jean-Luc nodded. “Yes.” She sighed again. “Then I think we have a problem.” Moving until he was sat close to her, she allowed him to take one of her hands. “Just tell me what the problem is.” Looking into his eyes, T’Krel said softly, “I will not be able to keep my real sexuality at bay indefinitely. There will be times when I will be compelled to express myself sexually and our recent experience has shown I cannot do that with you.” Jean-Luc smiled and squeezed her hand. “T’Krel…” She shook her head. “No, Jean-Luc. I cannot…no, I will not injure you again.” Concern was mirrored in his eyes. “Then what are we to do?” Her face was impassive, but her eyes showed her discomfort. “If we are to marry, there is only one thing we can do.” His reply was wary. “And that is?” “Our marital contract must be an open one.” He sat back, frowning. “An open contract?” She nodded. “Yes. I must be free to seek a Vulcan partner when I need to.” He thought for only a few moments before giving a decisive nod. “That is logical.” T’Krel nodded slowly, trying to gauge his mood. “It would benefit you, as well.” He frowned deeply. “How so?” Feeling slightly uncomfortable and not really knowing how he would take her next words, T’Krel kept her voice soft. “You too would have the opportunity to seek a more…emotional partner, one who may better suit your needs.” He let go of her hand and stood, wanting to pace, to shout, but settled for gritting his teeth and fisting his hands. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively soft. “I need no one but you, T’Krel.” She knew him well enough to know he was very angry. She stood to face him. “Were you unaware that I know you need more than I am capable of giving you?” Calming himself, Jean-Luc took her hands and looked into her eyes. “T’Krel you give me all I need. Please don’t think otherwise. I am willing to agree that you should seek whatever you need to be happy. Let us leave it at that.” Unconvinced, but unwilling to press the issue, T’Krel merely bowed her head and sighed. “Thank you, Jean-Luc. Please know my actions will not impair our marriage in any way. In all other matters, I will be faithful to you.” He smiled but there was sadness in his eyes. “I know you will, T’Krel, I never doubted you.” They made love that night and T’Krel made a concerted effort to be more than she was, but at its end she knew she had failed. The Enterprise entered orbit around Earth early in the day. They had to wait three hours before the great ship could berth at McKinley Station. Having made some enquiries, Jean-Luc was on his way down to the surface to see an old friend. Jean-Luc and T’Krel had agreed to have one of Jean-Luc’s old Academy friends marry them. The man in question was stationed at Starfleet Command. The Captain beamed down and exited the transporter room to cross the gardens. He was enjoying the morning crispness when a voice stopped him in his tracks. “Jean-Luc? Is that Jean-Luc Picard?” He turned, a slight frown on his face. Approaching him was a woman of about his age, her grey hair swept up in an elaborate bun. As she neared the Captain, her piercing green eyes jogged a memory. He smiled. “Anita Keating!” The woman laughed, shaking her head. “Actually, it’s Anita Simmonds.” Jean-Luc held out his arms. “I don’t care, come here.” They embraced before kissing each other. Jean-Luc sighed, his eyes dancing with delight. “I didn’t know you were here, last time I heard of you, you were on the Hermes, heading out to the Jurase sector.” Anita flapped her hand. “Oh that was months ago! I’ve been here at Command for weeks.” The sprightly woman snapped her fingers, her eyes dancing. “Hey, why don’t we get together, you know, the old firm? You me and Beverly.” Jean-Luc’s face fell. “That isn’t possible, I’m afraid. Beverly went on a mission just over a year ago. She never returned.” Confusion swept over the woman’s face. “But that can’t be right, I saw her only a week ago.” Jean-Luc’s head snapped up and when he spoke, it was so sharply that Anita took a step backwards. “What? Where?” Now nervous, as well as confused, Anita said warily, “Here at Command. Look, Jean-Luc, I only saw her through a window, but I’m absolutely certain it was her. It’s odd though. When I went to see her, she had gone and nobody could tell me where she went…or that she had ever been here in the first place.” Suddenly overcome with the need to move, Jean-Luc squeezed Anita’s hand and offered her an apology. “I have to go, Anita, there is something I have to do.” He was walking away when a very confused woman uttered, “Okay, I’ll see you around.” Jean-Luc made his way immediately to another old friend’s office. He didn’t seek admittance via the secretary, nor did he knock, instead he opened the door and barrelled right in. The woman behind the desk looked up, a darkening glower on her face, but when she saw who it was that had just disturbed her unannounced, the glower gave way to a tentative smile. “Jean-Luc?” Not standing on ceremony, Jean-Luc placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward menacingly. “I have just been told that Beverly was seen here at Command a week ago.” Admiral Marta Salvado sat back and steepled her fingers under her chin. Being in charge of the deployment of individual officers put the Admiral in a difficult position. She sighed and briefly closed her eyes. “Jean-Luc…” The Captain’s voice dropped to a deep, soft rumble. “Was she here?” Many years of friendship warred with the Admiral’s need to keep a confidence. She sighed again and lifted a hand. “Jean-Luc…I can’t verify that either way.” Confused and angry, Jean-Luc barked, “Why the hell not?” Herself becoming angry, Marta stood and glared at the vexed man. “Two reasons…Captain. One: I am under orders not to divulge information on a certain officer…and two: I made a promise I intend to keep.” Stymied, Jean-Luc ground his teeth. “So you won’t help me.” Sadness crept across the Admiral’s face. “I’m sorry, Jean-Luc, I can’t.” He turned on his heel and made for the door. Marta called as he left, “Don’t try anyone else, Jean-Luc; the answer will be the same.” As he stalked briskly out of the building, his communicator chirped. “Kline to Picard.” The Captain stopped and grimaced. “Picard here, Henry. Go ahead.” “Where are you, Jean-Luc? We were supposed to meet fifteen minutes ago. It’s not like you to be late” Closing his eyes, Jean-Luc tried to will his heart from pounding. “Ah, yes, I’m sorry, Henry, something has come up. I’ll…get back to you.” An obviously confused man responded with, “Well it’s your wedding I’m going to officiate in…okay. Kline out.” Once out of the building, Jean-Luc made a bee line for Admiral Brand’s office. The secretary outside the Admiral’s office was more officious than Admiral Salvado’s secretary. He was out from behind his desk the instant he saw the determined Captain stride into the anteroom. He raised a hand, almost placing it upon Jean-Luc’s chest. “Captain, how may I help you?” Jean-Luc came to a halt and glared at the young Lieutenant. “I wish to see Admiral Brand. Now.” Staying remarkably calm, the Lieutenant shook his head. “I’m sorry, Captain, but Admiral Brand is too busy to see anyone right now.” Taking a deep breath, Jean-Luc strove to calm himself. “If you would tell her that Captain Jean-Luc Picard needs to see her urgently, I’m sure she would make herself available.” Recognition flashed across the young man’s eyes. “Oh, I see. One moment please, Captain.” The Lieutenant disappeared through the large door and was gone mere seconds before he reappeared. With a smile, he gestured to the door. “The Admiral will see you, Sir.” Muttering, “Thank you.” Jean-Luc went into the inner office to see his old friend standing at her replicator. Before he could say anything, she held up her hand. “I know it’s urgent, Jean-Luc, but there’s nothing that can’t be settled without a cup of tea. Earl Grey?” Sighing to quell his exasperation, Jean-Luc summoned a smile and nodded. “That would be lovely, thank you.” Once they were both seated, Admiral Brand pre-empted Jean-Luc by saying quietly, “This is about Beverly, isn’t it.” Equally quietly, Jean-Luc said, “Yes.” Jacqueline Brand sighed and rubbed her brow. “And I take it you’ve already been to see Marta Salvado.” “Yes.” “And now you won’t take no for an answer.” Jean-Luc remained silent as the Admiral sipped her tea. Eventually she put her cup down and looked him in the eye. “What I’m about to tell you must be held in the strictest of confidences.” Jean-Luc nodded. “I understand.” Brand shook her head. “No, I don’t think you do. It involves both the Department of Temporal Investigations and Section 31.” Jean-Luc paled, muttering softly, “Oh, shit.” Brand smiled. “Exactly.” Jean-Luc sat back and ran a hand over his head. Brand watched him, knowing he would ask her what he wanted to know. “Can you tell me what her mission was?” The Admiral shook her head. “No.” With a nod, Jean-Luc sighed. “And I suppose you can’t tell me where she is?” Brand’s face fell. “Not as of this moment, but I can tell you where you might be able to find her…but…I advise you to leave her alone, Jean-Luc.” Unable to sit still any longer, the Captain got to his feet and began to pace. “I can’t do that, Jacqueline. I have to find her; I have to see her…” The Admiral rose and went to him, taking his hand to stop his pacing. “You can’t, Jean-Luc. Look, I can’t tell you what her mission was, other than to say it was extremely traumatic. You need to leave her alone.” When Jean-Luc looked into her eyes, she saw there were tears in his. “You know I am about to be married.” She nodded silently. “I can’t, Jacqueline…I can’t marry T’Krel if I know Beverly’s alive! I have to see her!” Looking into his eyes and seeing his profound anguish, the Admiral relented. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose while shaking her head. “I must be mad…and if this gets out I’ll be cashiered…but,” She sighed again and squeezed his hand. “Go to Gault, that’s all I can tell you.” Jean-Luc placed his hand against her cheek and kissed her, whispering softly, “Bless you, Jacqueline.” He was gone before she could say anything further. Jean-Luc was on his way back to the transporter suite when his communicator chirped. “Salvado to Picard.” He slowed his steps and frowned. “Picard here, go ahead, Marta.” “I have just spoken to Jacqueline. I take it you will insist on going to Gault?” Jean-Luc’s reply was guarded. “Yes…” “Will you tell her something for me when you see her?” Jean-Luc stopped, a frown on his face. “Yes.” He could hear sadness and regret in Marta’s voice. “Tell her it wasn’t my fault…that everything that happened was because of Section 31. Not even the Temporal Investigators had any say.” Jean-Luc cursed softly under his breath. “I think I understand, Marta, I’ll tell her.” “Good luck, Jean-Luc…I think you’re going to need it.” He shook his head. “Why?” “Because she knows about your engagement.” For the second time that day, Jean-Luc muttered, “Shit!” Marta’s voice was sympathetic. “I agree, wholeheartedly. When will you leave?” Jean-Luc closed his eyes, trying to quell his racing heart. “As soon as I’ve spoken to T’Krel.” It was Marta’s turn to swear. “Oh, shit.” Jean-Luc’s smile held no warmth. “Yes, exactly. I have to go, Marta…is that all?” “Yes, Jean-Luc, Salvado out.” Five minutes later, Jean-Luc was in the transporter suite. “One to beam to my quarters on the Enterprise.” “Aye, Captain.” As Jean-Luc rematerialised in his quarters, he immediately saw he was alone. Tapping his comm. badge he said quietly. “Picard to T’Krel.” “T’Krel here, go ahead, Captain.” “I have to see you T’Krel, immediately.” “Can you come to my office? I have some time free.” Jean-Luc sighed. He would have rather met her in his quarters. “Yes, that’s fine, I’m on my way. Picard out.” He left his quarters and strode through the ship, his mind roiling. As soon as he walked through the door, T’Krel knew something was wrong. She gestured to a seat, but Jean-Luc shook his head, instead going to her and taking her hands in his. He looked into her eyes, his stomach clenching. “What I have to tell you will come as a shock…and I apologise in advance for the hurt I am about to inflict.” She nodded silently, so Jean-Luc took a deep breath and continued. “I haven’t seen Henry yet. As I was crossing the gardens I met an old friend, Captain Anita Keating. She told me she saw Beverly last week at Command.” T’Krel’s eyes widened and she took a backwards step. “Oh, I see.” Closing his eyes briefly, and hating himself, Jean-Luc pressed on. “I went to see Admiral Salvado, but she wouldn’t tell me anything, so I went to Admiral Brand and she eventually confirmed Beverly had been at Command a week ago. She told me I might be able to fine Beverly on Gault.” T’Krel looked up into Jean-Luc’s eyes and said softly, “And you will go to her.” Tears welled in Jean-Luc’s eyes. “I have to, T’Krel.” The Vulcan removed her hands and turned to walk away from Jean-Luc, needing some distance between them. Near the viewport she turned back and lifted her head. “I am aware of the feelings you have for Doctor Crusher. Even after your extensive therapy and recovery, you never lost your love for her. It is logical that you should want to go to her now. I take it our marriage will not now take place?” Jean-Luc went to his fiancée and took her hands. “I don’t know.” T’Krel nodded once. “Then I will wait until your return.” Jean-Luc desperately wanted to say something to ease the situation, but all he could come up with was, “I’m sorry, T’Krel.” He was surprised when she shrugged. “Don’t be, it is no one’s fault.” Feeling confused and guilty, Jean-Luc turned on his heel and left the room. T’Krel turned back to the viewport and sighed, her vision blurring as she strove to meditate to calm herself. Beverly was met by Marcus as she beamed down to the medical clinic on Gault. The young man grinned as he shook her hand. “Greetings, Doctor Crusher, it’s so good to have you back.” Her smile a warm one, Beverly was pleased to be met so well. She was ushered outside to find a gleaming new flitter at her disposal. “Is that for me?” Marcus nodded eagerly. “Yes! We’ve been upgrading everything here and part of the package was better equipment for any visiting Doctors. You also have new digs.” They got into the flitter with Marcus at the controls. A short, ten minute flight brought them to Beverly’s accommodation. She was astonished by what she saw. A low lying building, it was set on a high bluff overlooking a bright blue sea. There was a plunge pool situated beside the house and an outdoor spa, but what really took Beverly’s fancy was the back balcony. It was large, with stunning white sails strung up for protection from the sun. There were tables and lounges scattered about and Marcus took delight in showing Beverly the controls that operated the tilt of the sails, the temperature of the pool and spa and the volume of the music centre. To say she was pleased with her lodgings was a gross understatement. She was, in fact, highly delighted. On his request, Beverly took Marcus back to the clinic in her flitter, with a promise to report for duty the next day. She spent the rest of the afternoon lounging in the dying sun on the balcony. It was after dinner that Beverly contacted Helen. The delight she saw on the older woman’s face made Beverly’s heart swell. “Beverly! Marcus told me you were coming back, but he didn’t say when. God…it’s good to see you!” The red head grinned. “I think he was being cheeky, Helen. He knew when my transport was due. So, how are you?” In response Helen held up her hands and wriggled her fingers. Beverly had to be careful to look surprised. “Wow! When did that happen?” Helen’s eyes were dancing. “Not long after you left another Doctor came. She did it.” Not being able to resist the urge, Beverly asked, “What was she like?” Helen sighed, her smile still evident. “Actually, she was a lot like you. Similar sense of humour and a damn good Doctor.” Beverly nodded. “And quite handy, it seems. Are you playing again?” With a chuckle, Helen nodded. “Yes! In fact I gave a short recital last week.” Beverly beamed. “Well I’m very pleased. Are you still receiving any treatments?” “No, not for about a month now.” Beverly’s eyes showed her delight. “Well that’s just wonderful! Can I come by tomorrow?” Helen laughed. “You better! I’ll make that boiled fruit cake you like so much.” Beverly held up one finger. “As long as it has no…” “…cherries! I know. How about three o’clock?” Beverly nodded. “I’ll be there.” Helen leaned forward to end the call, but hesitated. She looked carefully at Beverly and said softly, “How do you feel, Beverly? Are you over…him?” Her smile faded and Beverly found she couldn’t quite meet Helen’s eyes. “Oh I’m fine…no worries. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.” Beverly severed the connection before Helen could restate her second question. She sat back and took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds before slowly letting it out. Shaking her head, she gazed through the sliding glass doors at the starry night. “I have to move on. He has found someone else.” She was tired when she went to bed that night, but sleep didn’t happen. She lay awake most of the night, trying in vain to rid her mind of thoughts of Jean-Luc. Jean-Luc had to pull a few strings, cajole and eventually pull rank to get the use of the Captain’s yacht. With the Enterprise docked in McKinley Station it was difficult to take the yacht, but Jean-Luc wanted the Calypso for her superior speed and handling, not to mention her luxurious appointments. Admiral Brand had contacted him, effectively giving him a leave of absence. Apparently Admiral Salvado had also informed Will Riker, second in command of the Enterprise, that it was possible her Captain may not return before the ship was deemed once again, space worthy. To his credit, Will never questioned the edict; however he was intrigued that his Captain should take an extended leave on the eve of his supposed wedding. It was Counsellor Troi who finally contacted Jean-Luc. He had just left the Sol system and was in the gym, pumping iron. The computer alerted him to the incoming communiqué. He wiped his head and torso with a towel and went to the living area, turning the monitor to face him. “Computer, route incoming communiqué to this terminal.” “Acknowledged.” The face that appeared made him frown. There could be only one reason why she was contacting him, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with her. “Counsellor.” Deanna smiled, but he could see her obsidian eyes glitter. “Captain.” Wishing to end the contact as soon as possible, Jean-Luc dispensed with the amenities. “I take it this is about me taking leave.” Deanna nodded slowly. “On the eve of your wedding, Sir.” He sighed heavily. “I am not willing to discuss it at this time, Counsellor. All you need to know is that Beverly was seen at Command just over a week ago and I believe she is now on Gault.” Deanna’s steady gaze speared her Captain. “And so you have abandoned T’Krel to go and find Beverly.” Lowering his head, Jean-Luc said softly, “I am terminating this channel.” Deanna sighed. “Very well, Captain, but you should know, I will be counselling T’Krel.” He gave a curt nod. “As you wish, Picard out.” Jean-Luc sat staring at the blank screen and then sighed and closed his eyes, muttering, “I will seek your counsel over this once I have it sorted out in my head, Deanna.” Deanna glared at the screen, then sighed. She spent a few minutes plexing before she lifted her head and said firmly, “Troi to T’Krel.” The reply was a few seconds in coming, but the voice that answered was steady. “T’Krel here. Go ahead Counsellor.” Deanna took a deep breath to calm herself. “I have just spoken with Captain Picard. I feel you may benefit from some counselling.” “That is not necessary, Counsellor.” Gritting her teeth, Deanna stuck to her guns. “I think it is, T’Krel. Please report to my office immediately.” There was the merest few seconds before T’Krel replied. “As you wish, Counsellor. I am on my way.” Feeling an overabundance of nervous energy, Deanna replicated herself a hot chocolate and was sitting in her usual chair when the chime rang out. Centring herself, Deanna called softly, “Come in, T’Krel.” The Vulcan entered and immediately took her seat. She was, as usual, completely composed, the epitome of studied indifference. Deanna plastered a smile on her face and plunged in. “You must feel betrayed by what has happened.” To Deanna’s surprise, T’Krel shrugged. “I do not feel betrayed, Counsellor, in fact I feel nothing at all.” With a sigh, Deanna tried again. “The man who professes to love you…who has proposed marriage to you, has just left you on the eve of your wedding, to pursue another woman. Surely that is enough to make you feel something?” Again, the Vulcan shrugged. “Captain Picard’s unresolved feelings for Doctor Crusher are well documented. That he chooses to go to her now is not surprising.” Deanna let out a plosive breath, trying to keep her exasperation at bay. “But surely you feel…abandoned?” T’Krel seemed to give that some thought, but she surprised Deanna again by changing the subject. “I am not certain you should be counselling me in this matter.” Thrown somewhat, Deanna frowned and asked, “Why?” “Because you have disapproved of our relationship from the beginning.” Deanna rubbed her forehead and sighed. “T’Krel you must see the difficulty you presented by forming a relationship with a former patient. Even though he was no longer your patient when the relationship began, you must have been aware he was attracted to you during his treatment.” T’Krel shook her head. “No, I was not. Captain Picard was in a very precarious mental state when I first saw him. For a man who prides himself on his emotional control, he was in desperate trouble, but once we established a…connection…he regained his control. In fact he was so successful at burying his feelings, I had serious trouble in getting him to express himself adequately. “In all that I had no inkling he was at all attracted to me.” Deanna lifted a hand to give form to her words. “But later, once he’d been discharged and returned to duty, didn’t you think it odd that he would request you to be assigned to this ship?” T’Krel shook her head. “Not at all. When the request was presented to me, I accessed the crew list, in particular the mental health professionals and decided it would be a good place to further my career. I found the present staff to be…exemplary.” Ignoring the compliment, Deanna shook her head. “But when Captain Picard initiated the relationship, why didn’t you stop it? As you said, you knew of his unresolved feelings for Doctor Crusher…you must have known he was sublimating.” T’Krel stiffened. “I knew no such thing! When he suggested we embark on a romantic relationship I studied the situation…and the man…and I found both to be satisfactory. I admit I am unable to provide him with some of the more…human…traits he desires, but he has assured me it is of no consequence. Our relationship has been…satisfactory.” Deanna tried not to glare, but it happened anyway. She sighed and shook her head. “Satisfactory. That’s a sad word for a relationship with a man whose passions run so deep.” Deanna pulled her hair off her shoulders. “Tell me, T’Krel, are you going to fight for him?” The Vulcan briefly considered feigning ignorance, but just as quickly squashed the idea. Instead she shook her head. “No, Counsellor, I will not. Despite all you have said, I find it logical that Captain Picard should embark on his present course of action. I can only hope he finds what he is looking for.” Deanna spent a few minutes staring incredulously at the Vulcan before she had an epiphany. In a very quiet voice she said, “You never really recovered from losing your first mate, did you.” T’Krel stared emotionlessly at the Betazoid before she suddenly stood. She took a deep breath and seemed to gather herself. “I see no further need to continue with this session. Good afternoon, Counsellor.” In the silence of her now empty room, Deanna smiled grimly. “You may think this is over, T’Krel, but I’ve only just begun.” As promised, Helen had made Beverly a boiled fruit cake…sans cherries. As Beverly knocked on the front door she could hear the kettle whistling. Helen’s cheery, “Come on in, Beverly.” Made the Doctor smile warmly. She entered the house and made her way to the kitchen to see Helen pouring boiling water into the teapot. Drawing a deep breath in through her nose, Beverly hummed with delight. “Mmm, that smells so good!” Helen chuckled. “Baking always makes a welcoming aroma. Come on, I’ve laid the table in the living room.” Both women walked into the light, airy room, dominated by the grand piano which was situated near the double glass doors that led out onto the back deck. While Beverly watched, Helen cut and served the cake, then poured each of them a hot cup of tea. With a cheekily raised eyebrow, Helen gestured to the open doors. “It’s a lovely afternoon, why don’t we take this outside?” Beverly nodded and grinned. “Great idea.” They quickly settled in their chairs and Beverly couldn’t help back lift her head, her eyes squinted in the dappled light. “It really is lovely our here. Have you seen my new place?” Helen nodded, using a finger to remove a crumb of cake from her lip. “Uh huh, Marcus took me over there about a fortnight ago. It’s wonderful.” Raising her eyebrows, Beverly nodded enthusiastically. “It certainly is! Did you go inside? Did you see the balcony?” Shaking her head, Helen mumbled around her cake, “No, I only saw it from the outside.” Beverly blew on her tea then took a tentative sip. “Then you must come by tomorrow. I’ll give you the grand tour.” They ate in silence for a few minutes before Beverly asked, “How have your hands been?” Lifting her right hand and flexing it, Helen smiled wistfully. “Really good. As you can see I have full movement now. I only wish Cheryl could have seen the results of what she did.” Feeling a little uncomfortable, Beverly smiled nervously. “I’m sure she knows, Helen. She would have been aware of what you’d be able to do before she undertook the procedures. The methodology she employed has been very well documented as has the results. In cases like yours the rate of impairment is in direct correlation to the amount of repair that can be achieved. The onset of Graves was slow in your case and a quick diagnoses was vital. Once that was achieved, the treatment was rapid and effective, so she was only dealing with a moderate amount of impairment.” Helen nodded thoughtfully. “So you’re saying if you had been here around that time, you would have done the surgeries?” Beverly nodded, a smile on her face. “Yes. When I left, you were still undergoing treatment; there was no way I could have done it then.” Helen sighed. “Well I’m just glad it was done.” She looked into Beverly’s eyes and the Doctor felt unnerved. “You two are so alike…she was sad too and like you, she did her best to hide it.” With a shrug, Beverly tried to give a light hearted reply. “Well, we all have our demons.” Not swayed by her flip response, Helen said quietly, “Are you over him, Beverly?” Flushing slightly, Beverly struggled to keep the smile on her face. “Over who?” Her expression showing her compassion, Helen said softly, “The Ambassador…the one who died.” Beverly tried to chuckle but it came out almost as a sob. “Oh him? Yes, I’m well over him.” Completely unconvinced, Helen decided to change the subject. “Would you like to hear me play?” Blinking back her threatening tears, Beverly smiled gaily. “Yes, that would be lovely.” They went into the living room and Helen took her place at the piano. She looked over to Beverly, who was standing at the instrument and asked, “Classical or contemporary?” Giving the question only a moments’ thought, Beverly said decisively, “Classical.” Helen nodded slowly, then said, “Have you a favourite piece?” While she nodded, Beverly said softly, “Debussy’s Claire De Lune.” Mild shock registered on Helen’s face. Beverly saw it and frowned. “What?” As she started to play, Helen said quietly, “That was Cheryl’s favourite too.” Nothing more was said until Helen finished playing. Beverly sighed, her eyes closed. “I have always loved that piece.” Helen nodded. “It is lovely, isn’t it. How did you come to love it so much?” Knowing the question trod on dangerous ground, Beverly waved her hand dismissively and said flippantly, “Oh you know, it’s one of those pieces you hear once and it sticks with you.” Again unconvinced, Helen simply nodded. “Would you like me to play something else?” Deciding to steer well clear of any other pieces she shared with Jean-Luc, Beverly chuckled and said capriciously, “Country Gardens.” Helen gave an incredulous look. “Grainger’s?” Beverly nodded. “Uh huh.” Rising from the piano, Helen laughed. “For that, I will need the music.” Beverly waited patiently while Helen retrieved the sheet music for the piece. Then, as she played, both women laughed as Helen played it in a jaunty manner. When she finished, Beverly went to her and gently lifted her hands, inspecting them minutely. Helen sat passively then smiled as Beverly let go of her hands. “Do they pass?” With a warm smile, Beverly nodded. “Yes, Cheryl has done an exemplary job.” Just then a call came through on Helen’s computer. She answered it, then spoke quietly for a few seconds before turning to Beverly and saying, “It’s Marcus. There’s been an accident at the granary. He needs your help immediately.” Giving a curt nod, Beverly switched abruptly into her professional mode. “Tell him I’m on my way.” Beverly was in her flitter, powering it up when Helen appeared at the door. She lifted a hand and smiled. “Thanks for coming. Let me know about tomorrow.” Beverly smiled, but her mind was already on the coming job. “Will do. Bye.” It was a very thoughtful woman who watched the Doctor lift off and fly away. Beverly entered the granary to see Marcus treating an obviously badly injured man. He looked up as Beverly knelt beside him. “There’re two more men trapped inside the chute. The rescue team is on their way, but they’ve been called out to a flitter accident. ETA is almost an hour.” Beverly looked up to see a group of men and women trying to prise the end of the chute open. She asked with grim urgency, “Do you have any idea of the status of the injured?” As he applied pressure to a bleeding wound, Marcus shook his head. “No. They’re not responding to any calls and I couldn’t scan properly with all the interference from the electro magnetic field, caused when the generator blew up. It’s also preventing the use of transporters.” Beverly frowned. “Why did the generator blow up?” Grunting softly as he repaired a broken bone, Marcus shook his head. “We don’t know yet, but it could be that some kind of blockage in the chute caused an overload. In any case it’s shut down the entire plant.” Beverly looked down at the patient and asked softly, “Are you okay here?” Marcus nodded. “Yes, but I’ll have to stay with him until the ambulance arrives and even then, I’ll probably have to accompany him to the hospital.” Giving a decisive nod, Beverly gently squeezed his shoulder. “Right. I’ll stay here then.” She rose and went over to the group to find they had managed to prise the chute open enough for someone to get in. Without hesitation, Beverly said firmly, “Okay, stand back, I’m a Doctor, I’d better get in there.” As she stepped forward, a large hand gripped her arm. “I’m not sure you should go in there doc. There’s about eighteen tonnes of grain in the header. If the gate fails it’ll come down and you’ll be suffocated.” Offering a wan smile, Beverly said wryly, “Then we’d better hope the gate doesn’t fail.” Putting the strap of the med kit over her shoulder, Beverly knelt and peered into the black chute. She took a deep breath and lay down on her stomach so she could wriggle inside. It was inky black and very dusty inside the chute. Once she was past the damaged end, it opened up a little, allowing her more room for movement. Using her fingers to feel her way, she negotiated almost fifty metres before she saw dim light. Hurrying, she emerged from the end of the chute into a large hopper. A huge mass of tangled machinery almost filled the hopper and at its base she saw a pair of legs. Utilising her lithe body, Beverly insinuated herself into the haphazardly tangled mass of metal only to find the first victim was very dead. His head had been completely crushed. Dismissing him from her mind, Beverly immediately began to look for the second victim. In the dim light it was difficult to see in the shadows of the mass, but after ten minutes of fruitless endeavour she spotted a hand. She couldn’t see the rest of the body, but she was close enough to be able to scan it, only to register faint life signs. With no way to lift any of the steel that was trapping him, all Beverly could do was administer coagulants and analgesics. She then made her way back to the chute. She laid her body full length inside and shouted, “Can you hear me?” She just heard the faint reply. “Yes!” Taking a large breath, she yelled, “I have located both victims! One is dead, the other trapped. I need lifting equipment!” “Okay, we’ll do what we can! The rescue team is coming soon!” Beverly had just eased herself out of the chute when there was a loud screech, followed by a deafening explosion. Grain began to pour into the hopper at a terrifying rate. Something hit Beverly’s head. Her world went suddenly black as her consciousness fled. Jean-Luc found it difficult to quell his impatience. The small gym in the Calypso was well appointed and he used it regularly, but no matter how hard he worked out, he could not tire himself enough to get adequate sleep. He read, he meditated, he did everything he could to occupy himself, but as the hours turned to days his impatience grew. Eventually his nerves became so raw he knew he had to do something to ease his tension. He retreated into his bedroom, stripped off his clothing and replicated some warm oil. Stretched out on his bed, he closed his eyes and summoned images of Beverly as she had lain beneath him as they had sex. Although it was not as he had wished it to be, his memories were erotic enough for him to quickly respond. He hardened rapidly and he groaned softly as he dipped his hands into the warm oil to coat his stiffening penis. He knew from long years of personal experience he could prolong this as long as he wished, but as his desire escalated, his need became urgent. He gripped himself firmly and pumped his hand quickly as visions of Beverly in the throes of sexual ecstasy flickered behind his closed eyelids. All too quickly his orgasm rushed at him. He used his free hand to grip his testicles gently and pull them down. As he ejaculated he called out Beverly’s name in one long groan of empty pleasure. He lay panting, feeling the tension slowly leave his body. He would change the bed and shower later. For now he sought the oblivion of senseless sleep. Deanna had asked the computer where T’Krel was and, having ascertained her location, was on her way to see her. Deanna knew her arrival would be unwelcome and, as it would be also unannounced, it would be a case of counselling by ambush, but so closed was T’Krel, and so averse to allowing Deanna to help her, the Counsellor felt she had no other option. Having arrived at her destination, Deanna frowned at the plaque next to the doors. “Captain Jean-Luc Picard.” She sighed. It would have been far better to have done this on neutral ground, but as T’Krel was currently in her fiancé’s quarters…her quarters…Deanna had no other choice. Taking a steadying breath, she pressed the annunciator. To her credit, when T’Krel saw who was at her door she showed nothing in her expression, but her voice held a trace of disquiet and Deanna felt a hint of anger coming from the Vulcan, but it was quashed so quickly, it was almost non-existent. “Counsellor Troi, what can I do for you?” Smiling, Deanna said softly, “May I come in?” T’Krel stepped back and gestured with her hand. “Of course.” Deanna entered, but before she could take a seat, T’Krel said with a trace of wariness, “What is the purpose of your visit?” With a sigh, Deanna said gently, “We need to talk.” T’Krel was still standing by the open doors. She stiffened and said with rising annoyance, “I do not think so, Counsellor.” Deanna clasped her hands in front of her and tilted her head, trying to soften her next words. “T’Krel, you are a member of my team and you are subordinate in rank. It is my professional opinion you require counselling. Now I can make it an order, compelling you to submit, but I’d rather not. However, it’s up to you.” Anger blazed briefly in the Vulcan’s eyes before she got control of herself. With great dignity, T’Krel moved to a chair and sat, waiting with stoic patience while Deanna did the same. She waited until the Betazoid was comfortable then said firmly, “As a Vulcan…and as a psychiatrist…I deem myself to be mentally fit. I do not require counselling.” Deanna gave consideration to the statement, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, I disagree. I think you are unable to see your situation dispassionately, you are too close to the core of the matter.” Raising one perfect eyebrow, T’Krel said archly, “And that is?” Modulating her voice to a sympathetic lilt, Deanna said softly, “That you chose the Captain as a partner because he represented no emotional outlay as your first partner did.” T’Krel glared hotly. “That is preposterous. I am a Vulcan; I have no emotions to outlay.” Shaking her head sadly, Deanna said softly, “Not true. You loved your first partner…didn’t you.” Shifting slightly in her seat, T’Krel’s eyes darkened. “I admit…we were close…we cared for one another.” Deanna was gentle, but relentless. “You loved him and he died and you were devastated.” Having received no reply to that, Deanna went on. “You were so devastated you thought you would never take another partner again, you would never allow yourself to be vulnerable, to be the recipient of so much pain ever again. Captain Picard was exactly what you needed. A damaged man, a man who loved another woman, a man who you could use to ease your pain.” T’Krel angrily shook her head. “Not so! Our relationship is…” “…satisfactory, I know. T’Krel you are a very good mental health professional. Why can’t you see the truth in what I’m saying?” Standing and glaring down at the seated Counsellor, the Vulcan woman almost seethed. “Because I believe you have a hidden agenda. You have been against our relationship from the very beginning and I think you will do anything you can to break us apart.” Deanna sighed and rubbed her forehead. “T’Krel, your fiancé is at present on his way to find the woman he truly loves. Don’t you think that is going to break you apart?” Sitting again with a ramrod straight back, T’Krel’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Captain Picard has to go to her…he has to find out if he still loves her and if she still loves him. Our relationship will depend on what he finds, but I am confident he will return to me. To do otherwise would be illogical.” Deanna almost gaped. “Illogical? How?” The Vulcan tilted her head. Captain Picard knows that only with me can he express himself fully…without the threat of repercussions.” Deanna had to concentrate on not snapping, “Because you are devoid of emotion.” Inclining her head gracefully, T’Krel offered a small smile. “That is correct.” With a sigh, Deanna rubbed her eyes. “In your therapy sessions with the Captain, you have stated that once he regained his equilibrium, he buried his feelings so deeply, you had trouble getting him to feel anything at all.” T’Krel nodded. “That is true.” “And now you can’t see that this passionate, sensitive man is going to an equally passionate, sensitive woman and you don’t think he will like what he finds? That is absurd, and you know it.” T’Krel folded her hands in her lap, a slight frown evident. “I would not have described Captain Picard as passionate and sensitive.” Struggling to keep control of her temper, Deanna swallowed her anger and tried to modulate her voice. “That is because you don’t know the real Captain Picard.” With a curt shake of her head, T’Krel dismissed the statement. “That is ridiculous. I spent many months in intensive therapy with him; I would say I know him quite well, better in fact than he knows himself.” Deanna sat back and regarded the Vulcan with a measuring stare. Eventually she sighed. “Tell me something, T’Krel, if Captain Picard had acted passionately, or romantically towards you, what would you have done?” The woman frowned. “I am not sure I know what you mean.” Briefly closing her eyes, Deanna took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right, let me ask you this. If he had courted you…sent you flowers and gifts and pursued you relentlessly, then, when he had your attention, behaved in an overtly romantic way towards you, what would you have done?” Seeming to give the scenario appropriate thought, T’Krel tilted her head and said firmly, “I would have rejected him, of course. Such behaviour is illogical.” With a wry smile, Deanna nodded. “Yes, I suppose it is, but it is very human. However, that’s not how he courted you, is it. He was attracted to you. He let you know and gave you the opportunity to assess him as a suitable mate. You found him acceptable and the relationship started. But T’Krel, what I said about him is true. He is damaged. Emotionally and psychologically damaged and it is that damage that has attracted you.” The Vulcan shook her head vehemently. “That is not true! As his therapist I would have seen if he was not functioning properly!” Deanna sighed, wishing she could find a way through the stoic woman’s armour. “T’Krel, you never saw it because you were still grieving for your deceased mate. Subconsciously you were looking for someone…or something to assuage your pain and the Captain represented an ideal candidate. His very need was what attracted you.” The Vulcan stood and stalked to the doors, getting close enough to trigger the opening mechanism. Keeping her head bowed, she said softly, “I think you should go now, Counsellor.” Deanna stood and went to the open doors, but stopped beside the Vulcan. “It will not get any better until you admit it to yourself.” With her eyes downcast, T’Krel said, “Good afternoon, Counsellor.” Once the doors closed, T’Krel walked to the viewscreen, her hands clasped behind her back. It was a good thing Deanna wasn’t there to see how hard she clenched her hands. A huge gout of dust and grain spewed from the end of the chute, forcing back the knot of people who had gathered there. A shout of alarm went up, causing Marcus to stop what he was doing. The ambulance crew were loading the patient into the craft when Marcus began to run towards the chute. “Beverly!” A large man stopped him from entering the chute. “You can’t go in there doc, the header’s released the grain.” Marcus struggled against the man’s big hands. “But Beverly’s in there!” The man sighed and shook his head. “Then she’s a goner, doc.” The young Doctor shook his head. “I can’t accept that! Where’s the engineer?” The big man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Still at the generators.” At a dead run, Marcus bolted from the gathering, sprinting into the building that housed the generators. Slightly out of breath, he gasped, “Who is in charge here?” A tall, cadaverous man stepped forward, his hands and face grimy with grease. “I am.” Marcus grabbed his shoulder. “We have three people trapped in the hopper and the header has released the grain.” The skinny man shrugged. “Then there’s nothing that can be done.” Exasperated, Marcus raised his voice. “That’s bullshit! I need to be able to use the transporters.” Casting a sideways look at his companions, the tall man shrugged again. “Well until we can stop the discharge of electro magnetic energy, there won’t be any transporter usage.” Trying to keep control of himself, Marcus said through gritted teeth, “Okay, how do you stop it?” The tall man ran a hand over his bald head, leaving a smear of grease mixed with his sweat. “It’s not as simple as you think, doc. The entire generator bed is live, we can’t get near it.” “Then cut the bloody power!” Glowering down at the smaller man, the engineer growled, “We can’t! That would isolate this entire facility!” Losing the battle with his temper, Marcus reached up and grabbed the man’s shirt and shook him. “Do it just long enough for us to transport out the victims, you idiot!” Grabbing Marcus’s hands and forcibly removing them, the tall man stalked over to the power distribution board and pulled down a large switch. Suddenly the building was plunged into darkness. Marcus pulled out his land communicator and barked, “Transporter suite…get them out…now!” Beverly’s body was as tangled as the mass of metal around her. Blood from a devastating head wound had pooled under her, mixing with the errant grain to make a sticky, inspissated puddle. Luckily for her, she was bent over a steel beam and above her; a conglomerate of iron formed an umbrella, affording her vital breathing space. But her scant supply of oxygen was quickly running out, and what air remained was contaminated by thick dust. Her lungs were having great difficulty in getting sufficient oxygen and life was beginning to drain away. She was completely unaware when the blue sparkle of the transporter beam took her and the two other victims out of their tomb. They rematerialised on the grassy expanse near the ambulances. While Marcus went straight to Beverly, the medics went to the other two, but quickly ascertained they were dead. Applying pressure to her head wound, Marcus called out, “We have to get her to the hospital…quickly!” It seemed like only minutes before the ambulance was lifting off. Beverly was rushed into surgery, her life hanging on by the merest of threads. On final approach to Gault, Jean-Luc tried to keep his excitement at manageable levels, but all he could think of was seeing Beverly after so very long. As he received instruction to land at the local airport, he found he couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he replied, “Thank you Gault, Calypso descending now.” On his long journey he had taken the time to thoroughly familiarise himself with the colony. Largely agrarian, Gault supplied many Federation worlds with agriculture, especially grains. A hybrid grain had been developed that was capable of feeding many species and was also able to be held in storage for a very long time without spoiling or germinating. And it grew only on Gault. Most of the colony’s population had something to do with farming, but of course there were also administrators, medical and social personnel as well as engineers and a small group of Starfleet members who ran the modest defensive instillations. In all, the population of the Gault colony was approximately eight hundred, small by most standards, but healthy enough. Having landed his craft and secured it in a hangar, Jean-Luc disembarked and made his way to the flight centre office. After he’d been thoroughly scanned, he was warmly greeted by a middle aged woman. ”Captain Picard, welcome to Gault. I must say it is a privilege to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you” Offering a self-depreciating smile, Jean-Luc shook the woman’s hand and swept his eyes over the office. The woman noticed his scrutiny and chuckled. “You must be used to so much more, Captain, but this little office does all that we need.” Jean-Luc’s smile grew. He was beginning to like this gregarious woman. “I’m sure it does. Now, can you tell me where I might find Doctor Beverly Crusher?” The woman shrugged, her smile turning into a frown. “Oh no, I’m afraid I can’t help you, Captain. But…if you make your way to the town centre, I’m sure central records will be able to help you.” “Thank you. How far is it?” The woman smiled again. “Only about three kilometres. You can borrow a flitter if you like.” Offering a rare full grin, Jean-Luc said with gratefulness, “That would be grand, thank you.” Five minutes later he was on his way and four minutes after that, he was entering the central records building. The clerk was busy, so Jean-Luc bided his time for a few minutes, finding his impatience was growing now that he was so close. The young man soon finished what he was doing and come to the counter. “Yes, Sir, how may I help you?” Dressed in civilian clothing, Jean-Luc realised he may have gotten quicker service had he been in uniform. The woman at the airport recognised him, but it was obvious this young man did not. “I am looking for a colleague of mine…Doctor Beverly Crusher.” The young man’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Sir, there has been an accident at the granary. Doctor Crusher has been listed as one of the casualties.” Immediately alarmed, Jean-Luc barked, “Where is she?” Somewhat taken aback, the young man stammered, “The local hospital.” Jean-Luc was out the door before he realised he didn’t know where the local hospital was, but rather than go back inside for directions, he boarded his flitter and brought up the satnav. He was on his way in seconds. There was a small crowd outside the hospital. Jean-Luc shouldered his way through and entered the building, only to be confronted by an officious officer. “How can I help you, Sir?” Taking a steadying breath, Jean-Luc composed himself. “I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard and I have come to see Doctor Beverly Crusher.” The man consulted a PADD and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Captain, but Doctor Crusher has been listed as critical. She is not receiving visitors at this time.” Struggling with the urge to shout, Jean-Luc gritted his teeth and ground out, “Where may I wait?” Gesturing to his right, the official said kindly, “There is a visitor waiting area down the hall.” Offering a curt nod, Jean-Luc turned and left. Will Riker was a very busy man. With his Captain off the ship, it fell to him to oversee the refit that was in progress. He was in the Ready Room, going over the next set of schedules when the door chimed. It was an unwelcome intrusion and he was sorely tempted to tell the caller to come back later, but years of discipline had taught him better, making him only slightly scowl as he called, “Come in.” He looked up, somewhat surprised. “T’Krel. What can I do for you?” Wasting no time on pleasantries, the Vulcan said quietly, “I wish to take a leave of absence.” Will sat back, a little confused that the request hadn’t come from the appropriate department head…namely Deanna Troi. He gave a slow nod, bearing in mind that the woman had recently been abandoned on the eve of her wedding. “I see. How long did you have in mind?” The Vulcan clasped her hands and sighed. “I do not know.” Will nodded slowly. “May I ask the reason?” Stiffening slightly, T’Krel’s eyes glittered. “I am sorry, Commander, it is of a personal nature.” Folding his arms across his broad chest, Will pursed his lips. “Well with the ship undergoing a major refit…and your department is not really required to be at full strength, I suppose we could spare you. Have you spoken to your department head?” The Vulcan shook her head. “No, Sir and with respect, I do not intend to.” Knowing there was much more going on than he was cognizant of, Will merely nodded. “Very well, but you must realise I will be contacting your department head.” “Understood, Sir, but may I have your decision now?” Sensing the urgency in the woman, Will nodded. “You have my consent, Lieutenant. Please stay in regular contact so we can advise you of the ship’s status.” Offering a slight bow, T’Krel said softly, “Thank you, Sir. May I also request the use of a shuttle?” Now intrigued, Will nodded. “Check with engineering, but it should be okay.” “Thank you, Sir.” Once T’Krel had left, Will lifted his head to call, “Riker to Troi.” “Troi here, go ahead, Will.” “I need to see you, Dee. Can you come up to the Ready Room?” “On my way, Troi out.” Will sat back and sighed. Helen looked up as the distinguished looking man walked in, his back straight and his shoulders square. He was of medium height, bald, slightly built and with a prominent nose, but the overall impression was of calm dignity and authority. He took a seat near the window and stared sightlessly outside. After an hour of uncomfortable silence, Helen said softy, “I take it you are here because a loved one has been hurt.” Jean-Luc turned to the speaker and gave a curt nod. He then sighed, rose and went to the replicator. “Tea, Earl Grey, hot.” “This unit is not programmed to replicate that beverage. Please reorder.” With a sigh of exasperation, Jean-Luc barked, “Coffee, hot, black, no sweetener.” He retrieved his drink and retreated to his seat. He had only taken a few sips when a young man entered. Helen was on her feet immediately. “Marcus! How is she?” Taking Helen’s hands, Marcus was about to sit with her when he noticed Jean-Luc. The Captain had stood, his expression tense. Offering Helen an apologetic smile, Marcus went to the older man. “I am Doctor Marcus Key. How can I help you?” “Captain Jean-Luc Picard. How is Doctor Beverly Crusher?” Helen stepped closer to hear what Marcus was about to say. “She has undergone extensive surgery for several very serious injuries. She is listed as critical, but stable.” Jean-Luc dark hazel eyes were piercing. “May I ask the nature of her injuries?” Marcus studied the man before him. “Are you a relative?” “No, I am her commanding officer.” “Oh, I see. Well, she has a significant skull fracture with an accompanying subdural haematoma, several broken ribs, a torn spleen, several broken bones and a ruptured liver. Everything but the subdural haematoma has been successfully repaired.” Jean-Luc nodded once. “I see. Do you feel your facility has the personnel and equipment to treat her adequately?” Marcus bridled at that. “What are you suggesting, Captain? That you bring a Starship here?” Lifting a placating hand, Jean-Luc shook his head. “Not at all, but it does remain an option if you feel her injuries can’t be successfully treated here. After all, it is her well being we must keep in mind.” Somewhat mollified, Marcus subsided. “I will bear that in mind, Captain, thank you, but I think she will do all right here with us. Now, I take it you would like to see her?” Jean-Luc nodded. Marcus turned to bring Helen into the conversation. “You may both go and see her, but be warned, she is unconscious and I expect her to remain so for some time to come.” Jean-Luc Cast a glance in Helen’s direction and sighed. “Very well, Doctor.” Marcus led them through the building to Beverly’s ward. There, lying in a bed and attached to several monitors and intravenous feeds lay the love of Jean-Luc’s life. Helen stayed back with Marcus as Jean-Luc went to her bedside. He took her hand and lifted it to his cheek, closing his eyes and saying softly, “Oh Beverly, my love…what has happened to you? I am here, Beverly, I will stay until you can open your eyes and see me.” He opened his eyes and gently laid her hand on the bed. Then, ignoring his small audience, he bent to her and tenderly kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear, “I love you, Beverly.” He then stood upright and glanced at Helen, giving her tacit approval to come forward. She did so and together they stayed over two hours before the charge nurse told them it was time to leave. They left the hospital together and once outside, Jean-Luc realised he had nowhere to go. Helen seemed to guess his problem and said quietly, “I can direct you to Beverly’s place, I know the access code.” Summoning a wan smile, Jean-Luc said softly, “Thank you, that is very kind.” In the dying light of the day, Jean-Luc powered up his flitter and followed Helen to Beverly’s home. Jean-Luc watched silently as Helen inputted the access code. She stepped aside and gestured to the door. “There you go.” Feeling he should do something to repay her kindness, Jean-Luc said softly, “Would you like to come in?” Curious as to who this man was and what he meant to Beverly, Helen nodded and offered a smile. “I can make you a cup of Earl Grey. If I know Beverly, she will have some here.” Summoning a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, Jean-Luc nodded. “Thank you, that would be lovely.” Helen aimed for the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “Have a look around; I’ll put the kettle on.” Jean-Luc felt like an intruder. He wandered through the house, but gave only a cursory look in each room. He was standing by the large glass double doors at the balcony when Helen called him. “Tea’s ready.” He found her in the kitchen, the teapot poised over a mug. “How do you like it?” “Hot, black and no sweetener.” She smiled, but she was still wary. “Done.” He took the offered mug and sipped experimentally. As the fragrant brew infused his senses, he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He looked over the rim of his mug to see Helen watching him. He sighed and briefly closed his eyes before saying, “You’re not having any?” She pointed to a mug on the bench. “I don’t like Earl Grey; I’ve made myself a coffee.” Pulling out a chair from the table, Helen sat, making Jean-Luc do the same. As he didn’t seem to want to talk, Helen decided it was she who had better start the questions. “May I ask how you know Beverly?” He didn’t like the question, but felt he should offer some kind of answer. “Up until about a year ago, Beverly served on my ship. I was her CO.” Helen nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Have you known her long?” Offering a tight smile, Jean-Luc said tersely, “About thirty years.” Her eyebrows went up at that. “Oh, that’s a long time.” Sitting forward in her chair, Helen lowered her eyes and said softly, “Have you ever been an Ambassador?” He shook his head. “No, but an Ambassadorship was offered to me recently. I turned it down.” Seeming to be very interested, Helen idly drew runes on the tabletop. “So…you’re a Captain.” “Yes.” “What ship?” “The Enterprise.” Helen’s face registered surprise. “Oh, I’ve heard of her, she’s famous.” Growing tired of the gentle inquisition, Jean-Luc stood and gripped that back of his chair. “Well…Ms…” “Parker.” “Ms. Parker, thank you for your assistance.” Hearing the dismissal but ignoring it, Helen stared boldly up at the Captain and said with a warning tone to her voice, “Beverly and I are good friends, Captain…I don’t want to see her hurt. Do you understand me?” His expression was utterly closed but his eyes glittered when he said, “I understand perfectly, Ms. Parker.” With great dignity, Helen rose and left the house. Once he was alone, Jean-Luc relaxed a little and finished his tea. He then replicated some toiletries and some clean clothing, then went and showered and shaved before lying on the sofa in the living room. Despite his tension and worry, he slipped into a troubled sleep. He was awakened several hours later by the computer. At first disorientated, Jean-Luc was on his feet, his eyes darting about before his memory kicked in and he remembered his surroundings. He located the computer and activated the screen. Marcus’s face greeted him. “Hello, Captain. I thought I should tell you that Beverly has been placed in a medically induced coma and will be unconscious for the next few days, so there’s not much use in you coming in to see her.” Giving a curt nod, jean-Luc couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice when he asked, “Why have you deemed this treatment necessary?” The Doctor sighed. “There has been further bleeding in the brain and a build up of fluid around the injury site. We have put a shunt in and drained off the blood and fluid, but until I can go in and completely stop the bleeding, she will be kept comatose.” “Why can’t you stop the bleeding now?” “Because the tissue is too traumatised. I want the brain tissue to heal more before I go poking around in it. The bleed is very small; it may even stop by itself. In any case, we’re watching it very closely.” Folding his arms across his muscled chest, Jean-Luc pursed his lips. “I see. Well, I understand what you have said, Doctor, but I will be coming in to see Beverly any way.” Seeing his resolute expression and hearing the determination in his voice, Marcus sighed and nodded. “Very well, Captain.” Jean-Luc was about to sever the connection when a question occurred to him. He lifted his head and asked, “Doctor, who told you I was staying here?” The young man smiled. “Helen Parker.” Jean-Luc’s eyes darkened. “Thank you, Doctor. Picard out.” It was a very thoughtful man who went to the kitchen to replicate himself a light meal. Once he had eaten, he went out to the flitter and powered it up. He piloted it into the town centre and managed to find somewhere he could purchase a bunch of flowers. He then drove to the hospital. He wasn’t surprised to find Helen sitting beside Beverly’s bed, a large bouquet sitting on the end of the bed. The woman rose, holding out her hand. “Give those to me, I’ll go and find a vase.” Recognising the ploy to give him some privacy, Jean-Luc summoned a smile and handed the flowers over. “Thank you.” He waited until he was alone before he bent down and tenderly kissed Beverly’s pale lips, whispering in her ear, “It’s me again, my love.” Perching on the bedside, he took her hand and lifted it to his chest, holding her hand over his heart. He kept his voice low and soft. “I have been told you will be unconscious for some time, Beverly. I will wait for you, mon coeur.” He then contented himself to sitting quietly, just holding her hand. That was how Helen found him, fifteen minutes later. She gave him a speculative look and sighed. “We should coordinate our schedules.” Dragged out of his study of Beverly’s face, Jean-Luc frowned. “I beg your pardon?” Smiling with more warmth than she had yet shown, Helen pointed to Beverly. “It’s silly both of us being here at the same time. We should coordinate our visiting times.” His eyebrows rising in comprehension, Jean-Luc’s mouth opened. “Ah, I see. Yes, that would be a good idea.” Helen suddenly decided she liked this taciturn man. There was something about him that engendered trust. Besides, she trusted Beverly opinion of people and if she was willing to serve under this man, perhaps he was worthy of her trust. She decided to see if he would loosen up a little. “So, are you a morning person?” The glower was back. “What bearing does that have on the present discussion?” Helen sighed. “Okay, not much of a sense of humour.” “It was a joke, Captain. I was trying to see if you wanted the early morning visit.” Jean-Luc took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds then let it out slowly. He offered a rueful smile and shook his head. “My apologies, Ms. Parker, I misunderstood you. I don’t mind what time I visit, as long as it’s as often as possible.” She smiled, but the wariness was back. “Apology accepted, Captain. As far as visits go, Marcus told me we can only come in twice a day. Once in the morning and once in the afternoon.” Bowing his head slightly, Jean-Luc sighed. “Very well. What would you prefer, Ms. Parker?” She frowned. “Well, I have to help out with the lunches at the local school, so early morning and late afternoon would suit me.” Before Jean-Luc could say anything further, Helen smiled and said, “And it’s Helen, Captain.” Smiling with genuine warmth, Jean-Luc said softy, “In that case, I’m Jean-Luc.” Frowning and tilting her head, Helen said, “Jean-Luc? Sounds foreign.” “It’s French.” Pulling the corners of her mouth down, Helen raised her eyebrows. “Are you French?” He sighed. “Yes.” “You don’t sound French.” Growing a little tired of the conversation, Jean-Luc gritted his teeth and ground out, “No, I don’t suppose I do.” Her curiosity still unsatisfied, Helen easily sensed he would not supply any further information about himself. She smiled and went back to their previous subject. “So you come in late morning and early afternoon.” His smile returned, but it was a little strained. “That would be fine.” “Right. I’ll just say goodbye to Beverly then.” Jean-Luc rose and went to the window as Helen said her goodbyes. Then suddenly she was gone and he was once again alone with his beloved Beverly. He sat on the bed again and took her hand. Keeping his voice to a soft, deep rumble, he murmured, “Come back to me Beverly, my life is not complete without you.” He sat quietly with her for another half an hour before a nurse came and told him it was time to go. T’Krel was two days into her journey when she received a call from the Enterprise. She took a seat in the cockpit of the little craft and composed herself. When the screen cleared, she was not surprised to see Deanna. “T’Krel, how are you?” The Vulcan bowed her head. “I am well, thank you, Counsellor.” Knowing the woman could sever the connection at any time, Deanna was careful to be very calm. “Have you given any thought to what we have discussed?” Tilting her head slightly, T’Krel decided to indulge her superior. “Yes, Counsellor, I have.” Buoyed somewhat by that, Deanna asked softly, “And what was your conclusion?” The Vulcan’s face was completely closed. “That I need to speak with Captain Picard.” Deanna nodded, but couldn’t keep her concern from her eyes or her voice. “T’Krel…he might not have the answers you seek.” T’Krel shook her head. “That is illogical, Counsellor. You do not know what questions I will ask.” Deanna’s smile was a sad one. “I have a fair idea, T’Krel, but I doubt the Captain will be able to answer you. I don’t think he knows himself yet. At the present moment, he has only one imperative on his mind…and he is consumed by it.” T’Krel almost snorted. “I find that hard to believe, Counsellor. What you are describing is a man obsessed. I know Captain Picard. He is not obsessive.” Deanna sighed. “Not normally, no, but these are extenuating circumstances, T’Krel. If he is with Doctor Crusher when you find him, I doubt he will be able to find time for you.” The Vulcan clasped her hands. “Well I will see, won’t I?” Deanna nodded, again sadly. “Yes you will, I just want you to be prepared.” T’Krel smiled, but it was a cold expression. “You forget I am incapable of being hurt by his actions…or his inactions.” Inclining her head, Deanna acknowledged the statement. “That is true, but you are capable of being hurt, T’Krel. Your previous partner’s death hurt you deeply.” The Vulcan smiled thinly. “You always come back to that, Counsellor. Why can I not convince you that you are incorrect?” Deanna smiled. “Because I know it’s true. T’Krel I ask you one more time….why would you form a relationship with a damaged man who you knew was in love with another woman?” T’Krel sighed. Her patience was almost limitless, but she was reaching the end of her tether. “And I will tell you one more time…Captain Picard is not damaged and his enduring love for Doctor Crusher is of no consequence, either to him, or me.” Deanna opened her mouth to say more, but T’Krel abruptly terminated the channel. She sat, staring at the Federation logo on the screen before rising and moving to the aft section to meditate. It took her some time to find her equilibrium. A very angry Betazoid threw her empty cup across the room, the china smashing as it made contact with the doors, leaving a smear of chocolate across the grey metal. As she tried to rein in her anger, the doors suddenly parted and a very concerned Will Riker stepped cautiously into the room. He hovered on the threshold and said warily, “Are you all right?” Pinching the bridge of her nose, Deanna took a large breath, held it for a few seconds then let it out quickly, as if trying to expel her anger. “I just had another go at trying to make T’Krel see sense.” Coming into the room, Will sat next to Deanna, perching precariously on the arm of her chair. “I take it you had no success.” Deanna snorted and tried to plex, but she was still too angry. Will gently ran his hand over her hair and said softly, “Want to talk about it?” Defeated, Deanna sighed and closed her eyes. “I don’t think I should, Will. I have to respect patient confidentiality.” Nodding pensively, Will smiled,’ “Okay, let me tell you what I know and we’ll go from there.” Nodding cautiously, Deanna sat back in her chair and tried to relax. Will looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “Okay. Beverly and the Captain have a relationship that isn’t what he wants. He tries for more, is rejected and it ends acrimoniously. After a couple of months of bitter standoff, Beverly suddenly leaves the ship and doesn’t return. The Captain is devastated. He goes down hill fast and eventually suffers an emotional and psychological breakdown. He is relieved of command and sent to a mental health facility where he undergoes intensive treatment. His therapist is T’Krel. After a lot of hard work, he makes a good recovery, is reinstated to the captaincy and returns to the Enterprise. “A month or two later, he requests T’Krel to join him on the ship. She agrees. She arrives on the ship, but she is no longer the Captain’s therapist, in fact, as far as I know, you are his therapist.” To that, Deanna gives a slow nod. “Okay. She’s aboard only a fairly short time and they begin some sort of relationship. If you believe the scuttlebutt, it’s sexual. Then, out of the blue, the Captain proposes, in fact he asks me to be his Best Man. T’Krel accepts and they’re supposed to be married while the ship is here at McKinley. And then he up and takes off, on the eve of their wedding, offering no explanation and leaving T’Krel here on the ship. Then two days ago, T’Krel comes to me, by passing the usual chain of command, in this case her immediate department head…you…and requests a leave of absence.” He paused and Deanna smiled up at him. “How am I doing so far?” She shrugs. “Spot on.” Will nodded decisively. “Okay. Now just before the Captain hot foots it out of town, I get a very concerned Admiral Marta Salvado calling me, telling me the Captain might be gone for some time, so obviously the brass knows what’s going on.” Deanna nods again and Will sighs. “Right. Well I don’t expect you to go all clinical on me Dee, but what the hell is going on?” The petite woman gathered her thoughts and looked up at her lover. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I guess you already know that the Captain never stopped loving Beverly, even though he first formed a relationship with, then proposed to T’Krel?” Will nodded silently. “Well…Beverly was seen at command a week before we arrived.” Will stood, his mouth agape. “Holy shit!” He paced twice around the room, watched by the seated woman while he put the pieces of the puzzle together. He suddenly snapped his fingers. “So he’s gone after Beverly…and T’Krel has gone after the Captain.” Deanna sighed. “Put at its most basic, yes.” Will regained his seat and shook his head. “What an unholy can of worms! What the hell is he going to say to Beverly? And what about T’Krel? Christ…she’s been left at the altar and now she’s going to do what? Fight for him? Against Beverly? And what about the Captain? Does he love T’Krel or not? He’s not the sort of man to treat anybody so badly, especially a woman he has professed love for, love enough to marry.” Deanna took Will’s hand, trying to calm him. “Will, my love, it’s very complicated. We’re dealing with people who have serious emotional issues…even T’Krel. I don’t know how this is going to turn out, but one thing’s for sure. It won’t be pretty.” Will looked askance. “Do tell.” He stood again and went to the replicator, silently asking his lover if she wanted a drink. She shook her head and he shrugged, turning to the machine and ordering, “Coffee, hot, milk, double sweetener.” He retrieved his drink and went back to sit on the arm of Deanna’s chair. He sipped pensively before he scratched his head. “I wonder where the hell Beverly has been all this time…and why the hell didn’t she come back to us?” Deanna sighed, idly picking at some lint on Will’s trousers. “As to where she’s been, I haven’t a clue and believe me, I’ve tried to find out, but as to why she didn’t come back to the Enterprise, I can only think of two reasons.” Will looked down, his eye brow raised in silent enquiry. Touching her index finger, Deanna said, “One: she may have still been angry with the Captain and too bloody minded…and proud…to come back and face him.” Will nodded thoughtfully, gently stroking his beard. “Okay, I can see that. What’s the second reason?” Deanna sighed deeply. “Number two I really hope isn’t the one. That’s where Beverly has been told by an outsider about the Captain’s engagement.” Will gasped as the ramifications hit home. “Oh Christ…I hope not! My God…I don’t think she’d take it very well, do you?” Rubbing her gritty eyes, Deanna sighed again. “Well, she may have absented herself to get away…to prevent herself from doing something she regretted…or…” Will grunted. “She may be off somewhere licking her wounds.” With a sad nod, Deanna muttered, “Exactly. A year is a long time, Will, a long time to stay angry, especially with someone who shares as much history with her as the Captain does.” It was Will’s turn to sigh. “Yeah, they’ve been best friends for donkey’s years.” Deanna nodded her agreement. “So if she returned feeling different than when she left…” Will groaned softly, “And then found out that in her absence the Captain has got engaged…” Deanna’s voice clearly showed her dismay. “She would’ve been devastated.” Tossing back the remainder of his coffee, Will growled, “Fuck! For once I’d really like things to go right for those two.” Deanna smiled sadly. “You and me both.” Looking down at his lover, Will asked quietly, “There’s absolutely nothing we can do…is there.” It wasn’t a question and Deanna didn’t treat it as such. “No, Will. All we can do is stand back, watch the fireworks and be there to help pick up the pieces.” Running his fingers through his beard, Will suddenly frowned. “Dee, bearing in mind what happened to the Captain when Beverly disappeared, how do you think he would take it if he finds her and she rejects him again?” Lowering her head into her hands, Deanna almost moaned. “I don’t want to think about it, Will, but if he stays true to form, he may well suffer another breakdown…one he might not recover from.” They were silent for a few moments before Will said softly, “And having T’Krel there isn’t going to help matters, is it?” Shaking her head slowly, Deanna muttered. “No, Will, not in the slightest.” Slumping on his perch, Will lowered his head in defeat. “Oh shit, what a bloody mess.” Deanna didn’t add to that. She didn’t have to. Jean-Luc had only been in Beverly’s home ten minutes when the front door chimed. He briefly considered ignoring it, but in the end curiosity won him over. He went to the door and opened it. Standing under the porch was Helen, a large, covered ceramic dish in her gloved hands. To his silent enquiry she said briskly, “I don’t know if you can cook, Jean-Luc, but I thought you might appreciate some home cooking.” The aroma of the meal in the dish wafted to the Captain and his stomach rumbled in response. He reddened slightly and Helen chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Jean-Luc stepped back and gestured for her to enter. She went unerringly to the kitchen, followed by the bemused Captain. “If you get two plates, I’ll join you. I haven’t eaten yet.” Speaking for the first time, Jean-Luc smiled to cover his annoyance and dutifully retrieved two plates. “This is very kind of you, Helen, but I assure you, I am fully capable of looking after myself.” The woman smiled in a kindly fashion. “I’m sure you are, Jean-Luc, but I just wanted Beverly to know her friend is being well cared for.” That dissipated his annoyance. He smiled and watched as Helen ladled out two portions of beef stew with dumplings. Always the gentleman, he waited until Helen was seated before he took his own seat and they began their meal. Sensing he was in no mood for small talk, Helen remained silent, but Jean-Luc eventually felt the quiet to be oppressive. He smiled and gesture to his meal. “This is very good.” Heartened by his comment, Helen nodded. “Thank you. I have Beverly…and another Doctor to thank for it.” That brought a frown. “I can’t believe Beverly taught you to cook…I know for a fact she’s hopeless in the kitchen.” Helen laughed. “Oh I know! No, what I mean is…I had Grave’s disease. Beverly saw me through the bulk of my treatment. After she left Gault another Doctor took over my case and was able to restore my hands. If not for that, cooking, like my piano playing, would have been a thing of the past.” Intrigued, Jean-Luc asked softly, “You play the piano?” Helen nodded. “Yes. I was quite good…once.” Smiling wistfully, Jean-Luc said softly, “I played when I was young.” Helen was delighted. “Do you still play?” His face lost its dreamy look. “No, I gave it up a very long time ago.” Suddenly feeling like she was on to something, Helen asked gently, “Do you have a favourite piece?” His smile was a warm one. “Oh yes! Debussy’s Claire De Lune.” Helen sat back and put her spoon beside her plate. “I knew it! You’re the man she pined for!” But then she frowned. “But…she said you were dead.” Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, Jean-Luc cleared his throat and looked over at the kettle. “Would you like a cup of coffee before you go?” Realising he would not be drawn, Helen shook her head. “No, I have to be up early tomorrow, I’d best be going.” Jean-Luc stood and put the lid back on the dish, picking it up to give back to the woman, but she shook her head. “No, you keep it; you’ll get another couple of meals out of it.” Jean-Luc showed her to the door, but she hesitated on the way out. Turning to Jean-Luc, her gaze was confused. “Who are you, Jean-Luc Picard?” He offered a slight bow and said softly, “Thank you for a delightful meal. Good night.” Once in her flitter, Helen spent ten minutes silently looking at the closed front door. Before she powered up and left she shook her head, whispering, “Who the hell are you, Captain?” In the deep recesses of her mind, the unconscious Beverly struggled restlessly with images that emerged, one after another, all of them, pictures of Jean-Luc. That he had chosen to wed another woman had hurt her deeply, but she clearly remembered how they had felt when they parted…the bitterness, the acrimony, it was little wonder that he chose to find solace in the arms of another woman. But still, it felt like a betrayal. She acknowledged that, during the time that had passed, and given the nature of her mission, she had had the time to come to terms with her feelings, finally admitting her love for the man. Why she had ever denied those feelings in the first place was a mystery to her and the tragedy of what had transpired since distressed her deeply, but knowing she had to be responsible for her actions and thereby necessitating her withdrawal, made her even more sure that she was doing the right thing. But it hurt so very much. The thought of him with another woman tortured her. “Did he make love to her as he had always wanted to make love to me? Is he tender? Considerate?” She snorted. “Of course he is…he doesn’t know how not to be.” Her thought wandered to the sex they had had. The intensity of it, the mindlessness of it and she marvelled, not for the first time at how he had managed to hide his emotions for as long as he had. She sighed silently. “I wonder what it would be like to make love with him…to share that exquisite intimacy, the vulnerability…that profound connection.” She sighed again, then gasped as images unbidden flashed inside her mind. The dreadful pictures of his body as he had been found. The evidence of torture…God how he must have suffered, but oddly, the serene look on his face in death. With a surreal certainty, a moment of utter clarity, Beverly suddenly knew why he had looked that way. “He was thinking of me.” Guilt, so terribly familiar by now, washed over her, seeping into each and every crevice of her being. In her mind she sobbed, knowing she would never get the opportunity to assuage that guilt, knowing that she would carry it with her until the end of her days. But even that did not distress her as much as the knowledge of how much she had hurt the man she loved. “Oh Jean-Luc … am so very sorry. How could I have been so blind?” Overwhelming sadness pervaded her mind and, in the private depths of her thoughts, she wept. He slept restlessly, tossing and turning as his dreams tormented him, so he wasn’t in the least bit surprised when he woke in the darkness of his room. A quick look at the bedside clock told him it was oh four twenty. Rolling onto his back, he sighed, acutely aware that he would sleep no more on this night. As always, his thoughts were filled with Beverly, but he made a determined effort to push them aside to consider the situation…and how it would impact on T’Krel. Jean-Luc Picard was an honourable man and in his relationship with women, at least once he matured into the responsible adult he eventually became, he had always striven to be honest and kind. If Beverly recovered and his hopes were realised, the ramifications that entailed troubled him deeply. On one level he was aware that, as a Vulcan, T’Krel should be impervious to hurt, but he knew her well and the knowledge that he had the ability to hurt her, that she had the capacity to be hurt, troubled him deeply. He sighed, closing his eyes as the guilt soured his stomach. Using the darkness to hear his confession, he muttered softly, “Oh dear God, if only there was some other way. I don’t want to hurt you, T’Krel. You have been wonderful; you were exactly what I needed at a very precarious time in my life. If not for you I would have languished in my depression…my command gone, my heart damaged beyond repair. You let me love you, you let me heal. I’m so sorry.” And then another thought intruded. Jean-Luc had always been an intensely private man. For many years there had been an ever-present undercurrent of speculation about his relationship with Beverly. The standard line they both used was that they were very good friends. Close, exceptionally so, but nothing more. The way their relationship had suddenly deteriorated did not go unnoticed, nor did Beverly’s departure from the Enterprise. Jean-Luc’s subsequent breakdown was the source of much gossip as was the speculated cause, but his engagement to T’Krel caused a furore. His crew on the Enterprise were loyal but even there the gossip mill went into overdrive. He endured the looks, the sudden silences whenever he entered a room and the subtle sense of unwanted curiosity he engendered, but he was well aware that if, by some miracle he was able to pursue a relationship with Beverly…the public scrutiny of what he felt was such an intensely private matter would be extremely intolerable. He sighed, knowing that if his heart’s dreams came true, such scrutiny would be not only inevitable, but unavoidable. He grimaced and clenched his teeth. “Oh God…what will Beverly make of it?” He spent a few idle moments going through different scenarios, trying to find some way of either minimising the fallout, or somehow finding a way to be absent while the storm raged. But, of course, such cowardice was alien to him. No, he…they…would have to face the music, to do otherwise would be to break a lifetime of habit. But the knowledge of the terrible hurt he was about to inflict made him almost writhe in shame and sadness. “If only there was some way I could make it right.” Little did he know that in the cold darkness of space, the object of his recriminations was only a day away from re-entering his life. Marcus surreptitiously watched Helen as she sat at Beverly’s bedside. It was fairly early, the day shift had only just begun the ward rounds and he had been surprised when Helen arrived, but once she’d explained her arrangement with Jean-Luc he smiled and gave a cheery nod. But as he went about his work he noticed that Helen was uncharacteristically pensive. From the other side of the room he caught sight of Helen talking to the comatose red head and the look of worry on the woman’s face gave him cause for concern. He ambled over and smiled with what he hoped was a confident expression. “Her readouts were encouraging this morning.” Helen looked up and gave a tentative smile. “That’s good. What about the bleeding?” His smile faded a little, but he offered a decisive nod. “It has slowed significantly; in fact I’m no longer particularly concerned. I think by later today it will have stopped all together.” Helen looked back at Beverly and sighed. “So when will she wake up?” Perching on the side of the bed, Marcus checked Beverly’s intravenous feed as he said softly, “Well the brain tissue is healing, albeit slowly. It’s probably best she be kept in a medically induced coma for a couple of days yet. It’s in her best interest.” They were silent for a few moments before Helen looked at Marcus and said suddenly, “What do you think of Captain Picard?” Somewhat taken aback, Marcus frowned. “Ah…I’m not sure what you mean. I have heard of him or course, he has a very impressive record, but as for the man himself…” He shrugged. “I haven’t a clue, but he seemed…pleasant…if a little tense, but I think that was understandable, considering the circumstances.” He watched as Helen again looked at Beverly, her concern obvious. Lowering his voice, Marcus leaned closer and said, “Why do you ask?” With a sigh, Helen shook her head in frustration, hissing, “I don’t know! There’s something…I’m not entirely sure he is who he says he is.” Confused, Marcus scratched his head. “What do you mean? He is Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Helen, he’s very well known right throughout the Federation. He has served in Starfleet for most of his life.” Giving an irritated snort, Helen jerked a thumb at Beverly. “I know that, Marcus, but who is he to Beverly?” His confusion deepening, Marcus said uncertainly, “Her Commanding Officer?” Helen snapped her fingers. “That’s it! He said that, didn’t he…but I know for a fact that Beverly left his ship over a year ago…he hasn’t been her CO for ages. Why do you think he told you that?” Growing increasingly lost in the conversation, Marcus shrugged. “Look, Helen, it wasn’t the best of ways to meet the man. A woman he obviously cares for has been badly injured. He just used whatever leverage he could to get information about her; I don’t think he had any ulterior motive.” Helen shrugged too. “Possibly not, but if this is the same man I think Beverly told me about…he should be dead.” Marcus’s eyebrows rose. “I beg your pardon?” Sighing with impatience, Helen elaborated. “Beverly told me that she loved a man…an Ambassador, and that she caused his death. It’s why she left Starfleet and came to Gault.” Now clearly nonplussed…and growing increasingly concerned for Beverly’s friend, Marcus said gently, “Well it can’t be the same man. Captain Picard has never, to my knowledge anyway, been an Ambassador. And I think I should point out…he’s still well and truly alive.” Giving a thoughtful look, Helen said softly, “He was offered an Ambassadorship recently, but he turned it down.” Keeping his patience with difficulty and growing increasingly irritated with Helen’s doggedness, he restated the obvious. “But, Helen, Captain Picard is very much alive.” Thumping her closed fist into her thigh she hissed. “I know that, dammit! But I’m almost certain he’s the same man. I don’t know what’s going on, Marcus, but something’s definitely fishy here, something I think is going to hurt Beverly and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand idly by and let it happen!” Over head the speakers came to life. “Doctor Key, please report to ward nine.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small device. Pushing a button on its smooth surface, he sent an acknowledgement of his page. He sighed, put the device back into his pocket and stood. Looking down at Helen he said firmly, but not unkindly, “Let it go, Helen. It’s none of your business.” He left the room and Helen looked back at Beverly. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you, Beverly. I promise.” It was oh twenty two thirty when T’Krel landed her shuttle. The flight office had been closed for hours, so she had been directed to her hangar by the automated system. She exited into a slightly chilly night and sighed as she realised there was no transport into the town centre. Hefting her bag over her shoulder, she began the three kilometre walk. Fortunately there were some people around when she finally arrived in the town. She was directed to the central records building, having been assured there was a computer she could access after hours. Suer enough, in the foyer of the building was a terminal which came to life as she spoke to it. “I am searching for the whereabouts of Captain Jean-Luc Picard.” There were a few seconds lapse before a softly feminine voice replied, “Captain Jean-Luc Picard is situated at 53, The Bluff, Harbour View.” “How far is that from this location?” “Eight point nine kilometres.” “Can you provide me with a hard copy of a map?” “Yes. Printing now.” With the map in hand, T’Krel walked back to the only bar, quickly finding someone who was willing to take her to the address. The man who took her soon gave up on trying to make casual conversation. Answering only in monosyllables, T’Krel’s seemingly cold attitude quickly killed any attempt at social niceties. He breathed a sigh of relief as they arrived at their destination. T’Krel barely had time to thank the driver before he lifted off and flew back into the night. Standing in the night, looking at the dark house, the Vulcan had a momentary uncharacteristic pang of nervousness. The name of the occupant of the house on the print out she held was Beverly Crusher. She sighed. This meeting was going to be awkward. Resettling her bag on her shoulder, she strode up to the door and pressed the chime. Jean-Luc had been sound asleep, the restlessness of the night before taking its toll. It was the third ringing of the chime that finally roused him. His heart missed a beat as he assumed it was something to do with Beverly that had him quickly donning his robe, to trot barefoot to the door, but when he opened it, there was no one there. But as he squinted into the gloom, he saw someone near the gate. He snapped the light on and called out. “It’s all right, I’m here.” T’Krel froze the second she heard his unmistakable voice. She had assumed both Jean-Luc and Beverly were out for the night. She slowly turned and walked back into the light of the porch. Her superior hearing picked up Jean-Luc’s gasp. “T’Krel?” Stepping closer, she said softly, “Good evening, Jean-Luc.” Scrambling to make sense of what he was seeing, Jean-Luc stammered, “What…what are you doing here?” She sensed his near panic and strove to put him at ease. “I needed to see you. We need to talk.” They stood in silence staring at each other. One with limitless patience, the other in turmoil. T’Krel tilted her head and raised one eyebrow. “May I come in?” Coming to his senses and rather belatedly remembering his manners, Jean-Luc summoned a wan smile and gestured her inside. “Of course.” As she passed him, he took her bag. “I’ll...ah…put your bag in the living room.” But before he could do that, T’Krel caught his hand, bringing him to a halt. “I understand how uncomfortable this must be for you and I’m certain Doctor Crusher would not like me to stay. Once we have talked, I will go back into town, I’m sure I can find accommodation there.” Bowing his head, Jean-Luc said softly, “Beverly isn’t here.” He looked up to see confusion on the Vulcan’s face. “She has been in a terrible accident and is in hospital. I am staying here at the behest of her close friend.” T’Krel’s face remained impassive, but was that hope he saw in her eyes? “I see. How is she?” Sighing, Jean-Luc ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. “She is in a medically induced coma to treat a subdural haematoma and associated intracranial bleeding.” “I am sorry to hear that. What is the prognosis?” “Guarded, but optimistic.” Smiling for that first time, T’Krel reached for Jean-Luc’s hand and gave it what she hoped was an encouraging squeeze. “I am pleased.” Again they stood in an uncomfortable silence. Jean-Luc, wishing she had not turned up at his door, mustered his shattered composure and gestured to the kitchen. “Can I make you a cup of tea?” Her own smile somewhat weak, T’Krel nodded. “Yes, that would be nice, thank you.” The silence as Jean-Luc went about making the tea was oppressive, filled with unspoken words. Once they were both seated at the table, Jean-Luc took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “You said you wanted to talk to me.” T’Krel nodded slowly. “Yes.” She surprised Jean-Luc by sighing deeply. “I have given a lot of thought to our situation. Initially, of course, I was not concerned by this turn of events, but on introspection I have found, to my dismay, that I have been feeling…jealous.” Jean-Luc sat back in his chair and bowed his head in to his hands, saying softly, “I’m so sorry, T’Krel…I never intended for this to happen.” She smiled sadly. “I know that, Jean-Luc, and on some level I should have been ready for it. I am aware you have never lost your deep and abiding love for the Doctor, but the fact remains you are engaged to me.” Jean-Luc’s head snapped up. “You aren’t going to hold me to that, are you?” T’Krel’s gaze became speculative. “No, I am not. To do so would be utterly pointless, but I would like to make you aware of what you are so willing to throw away.” Guilt and sadness washed over the Captain. He sighed, his eyes beseeching his fiancée. “T’Krel, I am well aware of what you offer and I know on some level I still love you…but…” T’Krel moved closer and lifted a hand to gently caress Jean-Luc’s scalp, something she knew he enjoyed and found both erotic and erogenous. He sighed and closed his eyes. “T’Krel…” Moving closer still, the Vulcan whispered, “Let me show you how much I care for you, Jean-Luc.” Jean-Luc was out of his seat in a shot. He pulled his robe tighter around him, his eyes blazing. “I think you should leave.” T’Krel rose slowly, moving closer to him. “Why, Jean-Luc? You know you always enjoyed having sex with me.” Not wanting to be cruel, but unable to stop the words from tumbling out, Jean-Luc spat, “But that’s just it! It was just sex for you…not making love!” He took a calming breath. “T’Krel…I need more…much more.” Confusion flashed across T’Krel’s face. “But…you always said it was enough. I knew you wanted more…but Jean-Luc, you stated emphatically that you were satisfied with our physical relationship as it was.” Trying to both make her see and ease her pain, Jean-Luc struggled to find the words he needed. “T’Krel…it was. But once I knew Beverly was alive…” Anger welled in the Vulcan and internally she marvelled at his ability to make her feel it. “But she hurt you! She only wanted sex with you…it was the cause of your terrible break up of your relationship with her!” Lifting his hands in exasperation, Jean-Luc bowed his head. “I know! But once I knew she was alive…something deep inside me told me that if I could only see her…explain myself…then maybe, just maybe we could repair the damage and find the love together that I’ve always felt for her.” He took T’Krel’s hands in his. “T’Krel, I have to try.” Taking her hands from his, T’Krel took a backwards step, the pain and anger in her eyes obvious. “I will not relinquish you easily, Jean-Luc. I have invested too much in you already.” He sighed deeply. “T’Krel…” She said abruptly, “I should go.” Snapped into a decision, Jean-Luc said gently, “It’s very late, where will you go?” She shrugged. “I will return to my shuttle, I suppose.” Shaking his head, Jean-Luc gently admonished. “That’s over eleven kilometres away. Stay here.” Her expression softened. “Are you sure?” He nodded decisively. “Yes. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.” They both knew there would be no sleep for either of them that night.


End file.
